The Power-House by John Buchan

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Episode Transcript

(00:00):
Dedication, preface, and Chapter oneof the Powerhouse. This is a LibriVox
recording. All Librivot's recordings are inthe public domain. For more information or
to volunteer, please visit LibriVox dotorg. Recording by expatriate in Bangor,
Maine. The Powerhouse by John Buchan, Dedication to Major General Sir Francis Lloyd

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K C B. My Dear General. A recent tale of mine has I
am told, found favor in thedugouts and billets of the British Front,
as being sufficiently short and sufficiently excitingfor men who have little leisure to read.
My friends in that uneasy region haveasked for more. So I have

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printed this story, written in thesmooth days before the war, in the
hope that it may enable an honestman here and there to forget for an
hour the two urgent realities. Ihave put your name on it because among
the many tastes which we share,one is a liking for precipitous yarns.
J. B. Preface by theeditor. We were at glennaesal six of

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us for the duck shooting when Lythantold us this story. Since five in
the morning, we had been outon the Skerries, and had been blown
home by a wind which threatened toroot the house and its wind blown woods
from their precarious lodgment on the hill. A vast nondescript meal, luncheon and
dinner in one had occupied us tillthe last daylight departed, and we settled

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ourselves in the smoking room for asleepy evening of talk and tobacco conversation.
I remember turned on some of Jim'strophies, which grinned at us from the
fire lit walls, and we beganto spin hunting yarns. Then Hoppy Binge,
who was killed next year on theBrahmaputra, told us some queer things
about his doings in New Guiar,where he tried to climb Karstens and live

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for six months in mud. Jimsaid he couldn't abide mud. Anything was
better than a country where your bootsrotted. He was to get enough of
it last winter in the Epre salient. You know how one tale begets another,
and soon the whole place hummed withodd recollections. For five of us

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had been a good deal about theworld, all except lythan the man who
was afterwards Solicitor General and they say, will get to the woolsack in time.
I don't suppose he had ever beenfarther from home than Monte Carlo,
but he liked hearing about the endsof the earth. Jim had just finished
a fairly steep yarn about his experienceson a boundary commission near Lake Chad,

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and lythan got up to find adrink. Lucky Devils, He said,
you've had all the fun out oflife. I've had my nose to the
grindstone ever since I left school.I said something about his having all the
honor and glory all the same.He went on, I once played the
chief part in a rather exciting businesswithout ever once budging from London. And

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the joke of it was that theman who went out to look for adventure
only saw a bit of the game, and I, who sat in my
chambers, saw it all and pulledthe strings. They also serve who only
stand and wait. You know.Then he told us this story. The
version I give is one he afterwardswrote down when he had looked up his
diary for some of the details.Chapter one, beginning of the Wild Goose

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Chase. It all started one afternoonearly in May when I came out of
the House of Commons with Tommy doLorraine. I had got in by an
accident at a by election when Iwas supposed to be fighting a forlorn hope,
and as I was just beginning tobe busy at the bar, I
found my hands pretty full. Itwas before Tommy succeeded in the days when

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he sat for the family seat inYorkshire, and that after afternoon he was
in a powerful bad temper. Outof doors, it was jolly spring weather.
There was greenery and Parliament Square inbits of gay color, and a
light wind was blowing up from theriver. Inside a dull debate was winding

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on, and an advertising member hadbeen trying to get up a row with
the speaker. The contrast between thefrowsy place and the cheerful world outside would
have impressed even the soul of agovernment whip. Tommy sniffed the spring breeze
like a supercilious stag. This aboutfinishes me, he groaned. What a
juggins I am to be moldering here. Joggleberry is the celestial limit what they

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call in happier lands the pink penultimateand the froust On those back benches was
there ever such a mothy and oldmuseum. It is the mother of parliaments,
I observed, damned monkey house,said Tommy, I must get off
for a bit or a bonnet joggleberry, or get up and propose a nat
monument to guy fawked, or somethingsilly. I did not see him for

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a day or two, and thenone morning he rang me up and peremptorily
summoned me to dine with him.I went, knowing very well what I
should find. Tommy was off nextday to shoot lions on the equator or
something equally unconscientious. He was abad acquaintance for a placid, sedentary soul

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like me, for though he couldwork like a trojan when the fit took
him, he was never at thesame job very long. In the same
week he would harass an under secretaryabout horses for the army, write voluminously
to the press about a gun hehad invented for potting aeroplanes, give a
fancy dress ball which he forgot toattend, and get into the semi final

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of the rackets Championship. I waiteddaily to see him start a new religion.
That night I recollect he had anodd assortment of guests. A cabinet
minister was there, a gentle beingfor whom Tommy fast public scorn and private
affection. A sailor, an Indiancavalry fellow, Chapman, the labor member,

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whom Tommy called Chipmunk, myself anold millson of the treasury. Our
host was in tremendous form, chaffingeverybody and sending Chipmunk into great rolling gusts
of merriment. The two lived adjacentto Yorkshire, and on platforms abused each
other like pickpockets. Tommy enlarged onthe misfits of civilized life. He maintained

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that none of us, except perhapsthe sailor and the cavalrymen, were at
our proper job. He would havehad Wyntham, that was the minister,
a cardinal of the Roman Church.And he said that Milson should have been
the warden of a college full ofport and prejudice. Me. He was
kind enough to allocate to some reconstructedimperial general staff, merely because I had

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a praise from military history. Tommy'sperception did not go very deep. He
told Chapman he should have been alumberman in California, you'd have made an
uncommon good logger, chipmunk, andyou know you're a dash bad politician.
When questioned about himself, he becamereticent as a newspaper say, I doubt

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if I'm much good at any job, he confessed, accepting ginger up my
friends anyhow, and getting out ofthis hole, paired for the rest of
the session with a chap who haslockjaw. I'm off to stretch my legs
and get back my sense of proportion. Someone asked him where he was going,
and was told Venezuela to buy governmentbonds and look for birds nests.

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Nobody took Tommy seriously, so hisguests did not trouble to bid him the
kind of farewell a prolonged journey woulddemand. But when the others had gone
and we were sitting in the littleback smoking room on the first floor,
he became solemn, portentously solemn,for he wrinkled up his brows and dropped
his jaw in the way he hadwhen he fancied he was in earnest.

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I've taken on a queer job life, and he said, and I want
you to hear about it. Noneof my family know, and I would
like to leave someone behind me whocould get on to my tricks if things
got troublesome. I braced myself forsome preposterous confidence, for I was experienced
in Tommy's vagaries, but I ownedto being surprised when he asked me if

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I remembered pitt Heron. I rememberedpit Heron very well. He had been
at Oxford with me, but hewas no great friend of mine, though
for about two years Tommy and hehad been inseparable. He had had a
prodigious reputation for cleverness with everybody butthe college authorities, and used to spend
his vacations doing mad things in theAlps and the Balkans, and writing about

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them in the halfpenny Press. Hewas enormously rich cotton mills and Liverpool ground
rents, and being without a father, did pretty much what his fantastic taste
dictated. He was rather a herofor a bit after he came down,
for he had made some wild journeyin the neighborhood of Afghanistan and written an

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exciting book about it. Then hemarried a pretty cousin of Tommy's, who
happened to be the only person thatever captured my stony heart and settled down
in London. I did not goto their house, and soon I found
that very few of his friends sawmuch of him either. His travels and
magazine articles suddenly stopped, and Iput it down to the common course of

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successful domesticity. Apparently I was wrong. Charles pitt Heron said, Tommy is
blowing up for a most thundering mess. I asked what kind of mess,
and Tommy said he didn't know.That's the mischief of it. You remember
the wild beggar he used to be, always off on the spree to the
mountains of the Moon or somewhere.Well. He has been damping down his

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fires lately and trying to behave likea respectable citizen. But God knows what
he has been thinking. I goa good deal to Portman Square, And
all last year he has been gettingqueerer questions as to the nature of the
queerness. Only elicited the fact thatHeron had taken to science with some enthusiasm.
He's got a laboratory at the backof the house used to be the

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billiard room, where he works awayhalf the night. And Lord, the
crew you meet there, every kindof heathen Chinese and Turks, and long
haired chaps from Russia and fat Germans. I've several times blundered into the push.
They've all got an odd secretive airabout them, and Charlie is becoming
like them. He won't answer aplain question or look you straight in the

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face. Ethel sees it too,and she has often talked to me about
it. I said, I sawno harm in such a hobby. I
do, said Tommy grimly. Anyhow, the fellow has bolted. What on
earth I began but was cut short, bolted without a word to a mortal
soul. He told Ethel he wouldbe home for luncheon yesterday and never came.

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His man knew nothing about him,hadn't packed for him or anything,
but he found he had stuffed somethinginto a kit bag and gone out by
the back through the mews. Ethelwas in terrible straits and sent for me,
and I ranged all yesterday afternoon likea wolf on the scent. I
found he had drawn a biggish sumin gold from the bank, but I
couldn't find any trace of where hehad gone. I was just setting out

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for Scotland Yard this morning when Tomlin, the valet, rang me up and
said he had found a card inthe waistcote of the dress clothes that Charles
had worn the night before he left. It had a name on it,
like Konilevsky, and it struck methat they might know something about the business
at the Russian embassy. Well,I went round there, and the long

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and short of it was that Ifound there was a fellow of that name
among the clerks. I saw him, and he said he had gone to
see mister Pitt Harron two days beforewith a letter from some embassy chap Unfortunately,
the man in question had gone offto New York next day. But
Konilevsky told me one thing which helpedto clear up matters. It seemed that
the letter had in one of thosepassports the embassies give to their friends,

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a higher powered sort than the ordinarymake, and Koonilevsky gathered from something he
had heard that Charles was aiming forMoscow. Tommy paused to let his news
sink in. Oh, that wasgood enough for me. I'm off tomorrow
to run him to ground. Butwhy shouldn't a man go to Moscow if
he wants, I said, feebly. You don't understand, said the sage

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Tommy. You don't know old Charlesas I know him. He's got into
a queer set, and there's noknowing what mischief he's up to. He's
perfectly capable of starting a revolution inArmenia or somewhere, merely to see how
it feels like to be a revolutionary. That's the damn thing about the artistic
temperament. Anyhow, he's got tochuck it. I won't have Ethel scared

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to death by his whims. I'mgoing to hail him back from Moscow,
even if I have to pretend he'san escaped lunatic. He's probably like enough
one by this time, if hehas taken no clothes. I've forgotten what
I said, but it was someplea for caution. I could not see
the reason for these heroics. PittHeron did not interest me greatly, and

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the notion of Tommy as a defenderof the hearth amused me. I thought
that he was working on very slightevidence and would probably make a fool of
himself. It's only another of themen's fads. I said. He never
could do things like an ordinary mortal, but possible trouble. Could there be
money richest. Crisus, said Tommy, a woman blind as a bat to

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female beauty the wrong side of thelaw. Don't think so he could settle
any ordinary scrape with a check.Then I give it up. Whatever it
is, it looks as if pittHeron would have a companion in misfortune before
you are done with the business.I'm all for your taking a holiday,
for at presence you're a nuisance toyour friends and a disgrace to your country's

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legislature. But for goodness sake,curb your passion for romance. They don't
like it in Russia. Next morning, Tommy turned up to see me Chambers.
The prospect of travel always went tohis head like wine. He was
in wild spirits and had forgotten hisanger at the defaulting pit Heron. In
gratitude for his provision of an occupation, he talked of carrying him off to

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the Caucasus when he had found himto investigate the habits of the Caucasian stag.
I remember the scene as if itwere yesterday. It was a hot
May morning, and the sun whichcame through the dusty window in Fountain Court,
lit up the dust and squalor ofmy working chambers. I was pretty
busy at the time, and mytable was well nourished with briefs. Tommy

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picked up one and began to readit. It was about a new drainage
scheme in west Ham. He tossedit down and looked at me pityingly,
poor old beggar, He said,to spend your days on such work.
When the world is chalk full ofamusing things, life goes roaring by,
and you only hear the echo inyour stuffy rooms. You can hardly see

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the sun for the cobwebs on thesewindows of yours. Charles is a fool,
but I'm blessed if he isn't wiserthan you. Don't you wish you
were coming with me? The queerthing was that I did I remember the
occasion, as I have said,for it was one of the few on
which I have had a pang ofdissatisfaction with a calling I had chosen.

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As Tommy's footsteps grew faint on thestairs, I suddenly felt as if I
were missing something, as if somehowI were out of it. It is
an unpleasant feeling, even when youknow that the thing you are out of
is foolishness. Tommy went off ateleven from Victoria, and my work was
pretty well ruined for the day.I felt oddly restless, and the cause

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was not merely Tommy's departure. Mythoughts kept turning to the pitt Heron's,
chiefly to Ethel, that adorable childunequally yoked to a perverse egoist, but
a good deal to the egoist himself. I have never suffered much from whimsies,
but I suddenly began to feel acurious interest in the business, an
unwilling interest, for I found itin my heart to regret my robust skepticism

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of the night before. And itwas more than interest. I had a
sort of presentiment that I was goingto be mixed up in the affair more
than I wanted. I told myselfangrily that the life of an industrious common
law barrister could have little to dowith the wanderings of two maniacs in Muscovie.
But try as I might, Icould not get rid of the obsession.

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That night. It followed me intomy dreams, and I saw myself
with a canout coercing Tommy and pittHeron in a Russian fortress, which faded
away into the Carlton Hotel. Nextafternoon, I found my step to wending
in the direction of Portman Square.I lived at the time in down Street,
and I told myself I would benone the worse of a walk in

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the park before dinner. I hada fancy to see missus pitt heron,
for though I had only met hertwice since her marriage, there had been
a day when we were the closestof friends. I found her alone,
a perplexed and saddened lady with imploringeyes. Those eyes questioned me as to
how much I knew. I toldher presently that I had seen Tommy and

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was aware of his errand I wasmoved to add that she might count on
me if there were anything she wisheddone on this side of the channel.
She was very little changed. Therewas still the old exquisite slimness, the
old shy courtesy. But she toldme nothing. Charles was full of business
and becoming very forgetful. She wassure the Russian journey was all a stupid

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mistake. He probably thought he hadtold her of his departure he would write.
She expected a letter by every post, but her haggard eyes belied her
optimism. I could see that therehad been odd happenings of late in the
pit Heron household. She either knewor feared something. The latter, I
thought, for her air was moreof apprehension than of painful enlightenment. I

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did not stay long, and asI walked home, I had an awkward
feeling that I had intruded. Also, I was increasingly so that there was
trouble brewing, and that Tommy hadmore warrant for his journey than I had
given him credit for. I castmy mind back to gather recollections of pitt
Heron, But all I could findwas an impression of a brilliant, uncomfortable

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being who had been too fond ofthe by ways of life. From my
sober tastes, there was nothing crookedin him in the wrong sense, but
there might be a good deal thatwas perverse. I remember consoling myself with
the thought that though he might shatterhis wife's nerves by his vagaries, he
would scarcely break her heart. Tobe watchful, I decided, was my

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business, and I could not getrid of the feeling that I might soon
have caused for all my vigilance.End of chapter one recording by expatriate in
Bangor, Maine, Chapter two ofThe Powerhouse by John Buchan. The Sleverrivok's

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recording is in the public domain.Recording by Expatriot in Bangor, Maine,
Chapter two. I first hear ofmister Andrew Lumley a fortnight later to be
accurate. On the twenty first ofMay. I did a thing I rarely
do and went down to South Londonon a county court case. It was

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an ordinary taxicab accident, and asthe solicitors for the company were good clients
of mine and the regular county courtjunior was ill in bed, I took
the case to oblige them. Therewas the usual dull conflict of evidence.
An empty taxicab, proceeding slowly onthe right side of the road and hooting

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decorously at the corners, had beenrun into by a private motor car which
had darted down a side street.The taxi had been swung round and its
bonnet considerably damaged, while its driverhad suffered a dislocated shoulder. The bad
feature in the case was that themotor car had not halted to investigate the

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damage, but had proceeded unconscientiously onits way, and the assistance of the
London Police had been called in totrace it. It turned out to be
the property of a mister Julius Pavia, a retired East India merchant who lived
in a large villa in the neighborhoodof Blackheath, and at the time of
the accident it had been occupied byhis butler. The company brought an action

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for damages against its owner. Thebutler, Tooke by name, was the
only witness for the defense. Hewas a tall man with a very long,
thin face and a jaw, thetwo parts of which seemed scarcely to
fit. He was profuse in hisapologies on behalf of his master, who
was abroad. It seemed that onthe morning in question, it was the

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eighth of May, he had receivedinstructions from mister Pavia to convey a message
to a passenger by the Continental Expressfrom Victoria, and had been hot on
this errand when he met the taxihe was not aware that there had been
any damage, thought it only aslight grazing of the two cars, and
on his master's behalf consented to thejudgment of the court. It was a

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commonplace business but Tuke was by nomeans a commonplace witness. He was very
unlike the conventional butler, much likeone of those successful financiers whose portrait you
see in the picture papers. Hislittle eyes were quick with intelligence, and
there were lines of ruthlessness around hismouth, like those of a man often
called to decisive action. His storywas simplicity itself, and he answered my

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questions with an air of serious candor. The train he had to meet was
the eleven a m from Victoria,the train by which Tommy had traveled.
The passenger he had to see wasan American gentleman, mister Wright Davies.
His master, mister Pavia, wasin Italy, but would shortly be home
again. The case was over intwenty minutes. But it was something you

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need in my professional experience, forI took a most intense and unreasoning dislike
to that bland butler. I crossexamined with some rudeness, was answered with
steady courtesy, and hopelessly snubbed.The upshot was that I lost my temper,
to the surprise of the County Courtjudge. All the way back,

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I was both angry and ashamed ofmyself. Half way home, I realized
that the accident had happened on thevery day that Tommy left London. The
coincidence merely flickered across my mind,for there could be no earthly connection between
the two events. That afternoon Iwasted some time in looking up Pavia in
the directory. He was there,sure enough, as the occupier of a

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suburban mansion called the White Lodge.He had no city addressed, so it
was clear that he was out ofbusiness. My irritation with the man had
made me inquisitive about the master.It was a curious name he bore,
possibly Italian, possibly go Anee.I wondered how he got on with this
highly competent butler. If Twuke hadbeen my servant, I would have wrung

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his neck or bolted before a weekwas out. Do you ever notice that
when you hear a name that strikesyou, you seemed to be constantly hearing
it for a bit. Once Ihad a case in which one of the
parties was called Jubber, a nameI had never met before, but I
ran across two other jobbers before thecase was over. Anyhow, the day
after the Blackheath visit, I wasbriefed in a big stock exchange case which

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turned on the true ownership of certainbearer bonds. It was a complicated business
which I need not trouble you with, and it involved a number of consultations
with my lay clients, a famousfirm of brokers. They produced their books
and my chambers were filled with glossygentlemen talking a strange jargon. I had
to examine my clients closely on theirpractice in treating a certain class of bearer

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security, and they were very frankin expounding their business. I was not
surprised to hear that pitt Heron wasone of the most valued names on their
lists. With his wealth, hewas bound to be a good deal in
the city. Now. I hadno desire to pry to pit Heron's private
affairs, especially his financial arrangements,but his name was in my thoughts at

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the time, and I could nothelp looking curiously at what was put before
me. He seemed to have beenbuying these bonds on a big scale.
I had the indiscretion to ask ifmister pitt Heron had long followed this course,
and was told that he had begunto purchase some six months before.
Mister pitt Herron volunteered. The stockbrokeris very closely connected in his financial operations

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with another esteemed client of ours,mister Julius Pavia. They are both attracted
by this class of security. Atthe moment I scarcely noted the name.
But after dinner that night I beganto speculate about the connection. I had
found out the name of one ofCharles's mysterious new friends. It was not
a very promising discovery. A retiredEast India merchant did not suggest anything wildly

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speculative. But I began to wonderif Charles's preoccupation to which Tommy had been
witness might not be connected with financialworries. I could not believe that the
huge pit Heron fortune had been seriouslyaffected, or that his flight was that
of a defaulter. But he mighthave got entangled in some shady, steady
business which preyed on his sensitive soulsomehow or other. I could not believe

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that mister Pavia was a holy,innocent old gentleman. His butler looked too
formidable. It was possible that hewas blackmailing pit Heron, and that the
latter had departed to get out ofhis clutches, but on what ground.
I had no notion as to theblack maleable thing that might lurk in Charles's
past, and the guesses which flittedthrough my brain were too fantastic to consider

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seriously. After all, I hadonly the flimsiest basis for conjecture. Pavia
and pit Heron were friends. Tommyhad gone off in quest of pitt Heron.
Pavia's butler had broken the law ofthe land in order, for some
reason or other to see the departureof the train by which Tommy had traveled.
I remember laughing at myself for mysuspicions, and reflecting that if Tommy

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could see into my head, hewould turn a deaf ear in the future
to my complaints of his lack ofbalance. But the thing stuck in my
mind, and I called again thatweek on missus pitt Heron. She had
had no word from her husband andonly a bare line from Tommy giving his
Moscow address. Poor child, itwas a wretched business for her. She
had to keep a smiling face tothe world, invent credible tales to account

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for her husband's absence, and allthe while anxiety and dread were gnawing at
her heart. I asked her ifshe had ever met a mister Pavia,
but the name was unknown to her. She knew nothing of Charles's business dealings,
but at my request she interviewed hisbankers, and I heard from her
next day that his affairs were inperfect order. It was no financial crisis

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which had precipitated him abroad. Afew days later I stumbled by the merest
accident upon what sailors call a crossbearing. At the time I used to
devil a little for the Solicitor Generaland note cases sent to him from the
different government offices. It was thanklesswork, but it was supposed to be

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good for an ambitious lawyer. Bythis prosaic channel I received the first hint
of another of Charles's friends. Ihad sent to me one day the papers
dealing with the arrest of a Germanspy at Plymouth. For at the time
there was a sort of epidemic ofroving Teutons who got themselves into compromising situations

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and gravely troubled the souls of theAdmiralty and the War Office. This case
was distinguished from the common rock bythe higher social standing of the accused.
The spy as a photographer or bagmanwho attempts to win the bibulous confidence of
minor officials. But this specimen wasno less than a professor of a famous

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German university, a man of excellentmanners, wide culture, and attractive presence,
who had dined with port officers anddanced with admiral's daughters. I have
forgotten the evidence or what was thelegal points submitted for the law officer's opinion.
In any case, it matters little, for he was acquitted. What

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interests me at the time was thetestimonials as to character which he carried with
him. He had many letters ofintroduction. One was from pitt Heron to
his wife's sailor uncle. And whenhe was arrested, one Englishman went so
far as to wire that he tookupon himself the whole cost of the defense.
This gentleman was a mister Andrew Lumleystated in the papers sent me to

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be a rich bachelor, a memberof the Athenaeum in Carlton clubs, and
a dweller in the Albany. Rememberthat till a few weeks before I had
known nothing of pitt Heron's circle.And here were three bits of information dropping
in on me unsolicited. Just whenmy interests had been awakened, I began
to get really keen, for everyman, at the bottom of his heart

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believes that he is a born detective. I was on the lookout for Charles's
infrequent friends, and I argued thatif he knew the spy and the spy
knew mister Lumley, the odds werethat pitt Heron and Lumley were acquaintances.
I hunted up the ladder in theRed Book. Sure enough, he lived
in the Albany, belonged to halfa dozen clubs, and had a country

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house in Hampshire. I tucked thename away in a pigeon hole of my
memory, and for some days askedevery one I met if he knew the
philanthropist of the Albany. I hadno luck till the Saturday, when lunching
at the club, I ran againstJenkinson, the art critic. I forget
if you know that I have alwaysbeen a bit of a connoisseur, and

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of my I used to dabble inprints and miniatures. But at that time
my interests lay chiefly in old wedgewood, of which I had collected some good
pieces. Old Wedgwood is a thingwhich few people collect seriously, but the
few who do are apt to bemonomaniacs. Whenever a big collection comes into
the market, it fetches high prices, but it generally finds its way into

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not more than half a dozen hens. Wedgewoodites all know each other, and
they are less cutthroat in their methodsthan most collectors of all I have ever
met. Jenkinson was the keenest,and he would discourse for hours on the
feel of good jasper and the respectivemerits of blue and sage green grounds.
That day he was full of excitement. He babbled through luncheon about the Wentworth

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sale, which he had attended theweek before. There had been a pair
of magnificent plaques with a unique Flaxmandesign which had roused his enthusiasm. Urns
and medallions and what not had goneto this or that connoisseur, and Jenkinson
could quote their prices, but theplaques dominated his fancy, and he was
furious that the nation had not acquiredthem. It seemed that he had been

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to South Kensington and the British Museumin all sorts of dignitaries, and he
thought that he might yet persuade theauthorities to offer for them if the purchaser
would resell. They had been boughtby Lutran for a well known private collector
by the name Andrew Lumley. Ipricked up my ears and asked about mister
Lumley. Jenkinson said he was arich old buffer who locked up his things

(31:33):
in cupboards and never let the publicget a look at them. He suspected
that a lot of the best thingsat recent sales had found their way to
him, and that meant that theywere put in cold storage for good.
I asked if he knew him.No, he told me, but he
had once or twice been allowed tolook at his things for books he had
been writing. He had never seenthe man, for he always bought through

(31:55):
agents, but he had heard ofpeople who knew him. It is a
silly old he said. He willfill half a dozen houses with priceless treasures
and then die, and the wholeshow will be sold at auction, and
the best things carried off to America. It's enough to make a Patriot swear
there was balm and gilead. However, mister Lumley apparently might be willing to

(32:16):
resell the Wedgewood plaques if he gota fair offer. So Jenkinson had been
informed by Lutran in that very afternoonhe was going to look at them.
He asked me to come with him, and, having nothing to do,
I accepted. Jenkinson's car was waitingfor us at the club door. It
was closed for the afternoon was wet. I did not hear his directions to

(32:37):
the chauffeur, and we had beenon the road ten minutes or so before
I discovered that we had crossed theriver and were traversing south London. I
had expected to find the things inLutran's shop, but to my delight I
was told that Lumley had taken deliveryof them at once. He keeps very
few of his things in the Albany, except his books, I was told.

(32:58):
But he has a house at blackwhich is stuffed from cellar to garrett.
What is the name of it,I asked, with a sudden suspicion.
The White Lodge, said Jenkinson.But that belongs to a man called
Pavia, I said, I can'thelp that the things in it belonged to
old Lumley. All right, Iknow, for I've been three times there
with his permission. Jenkinson got littleout of me for the rest of the

(33:22):
ride. Here was excellent corroborative evidenceof what I had allowed myself to suspect.
Pavia was a friend of pit Heron. Lumley was a friend of pit
Heron. Lumley was obviously a friendof Pavia, and he might be Pavia
himself. For the retired East Indiamerchant, as I figured him, would
not be above an innocent impersonation.Anyhow, if I could find one or

(33:45):
the other, I might learn somethingabout Charles's recent doings. I sincerely hoped
that the owner might be at homethat afternoon when we inspected his treasures.
For so far I had found noone who could procure me an introduction to
that mysterious old bachelor of artistic andPhilo Teutonic tastes. We reached the White
Lodge about half past three. Itwas one of those small, square Late

(34:08):
Georgian mansions which you see all aroundLondon. Once a country house among fields,
now only a villa in a pretentiousgarden. I looked to see my
super butler took but the door wasopened by a female servant who inspected Jenkinson's
card of admission and somewhat unwillingly allowedus to enter. My companion had not

(34:30):
exaggerated when he described the place asfull of treasures. It was far more
like the shop of a bond streetart dealer than a civilized dwelling. The
hall was crowded with Japanese armor andlacquer cabinets. One room was lined from
Florida's ceiling with good pictures, mostlyseventeenth century Dutch, and had enough Chippendale
chairs to accommodate a public meeting.Jenkinson would fain have prowled around, but

(34:54):
we were moved on by the inexorableservant to the little back room where lay
the the objects of our visit.The plaques had been only half unpacked,
and in a moment Jenkinson was busyon them with a magnifying glass, purring
to himself like a contented cat.The housekeeper stood on guard by the door.
Jenkinson was absorbed, and after thefirst inspection of the treasures, I

(35:17):
had leisure to look about me.It was an untidy little room, full
of fine Chinese porcelain and dusty glasscabinets, and in a corner stood piles
of old Persian rugs. Pavia.I reflected, must be an easy going
soul entirely oblivious of comfort if heallowed his friend to turn his dwelling into

(35:38):
such a pantechnicon. Less and lessdid I believe in the existence of the
retired East Indian merchant. The housewas Lumley's, who chose to pass under
another name during his occasional visits.His motive might be innocent enough, but
somehow I did not think so.His butler had looked too infernally intelligent.

(35:59):
With my foot I turned over thelid of one of the packing cases that
had held the wedgewoods. It wascovered with a litter of cotton, wool
and shavings, and below it laya crumpled piece of paper. I looked
again and saw that it was atelegraph form. Clearly, somebody with a
telegram in his hand had opened thecases and had left it on the top

(36:19):
of one, whence it had droppedto the floor and been covered by the
lid when it was flung off.I hope and believe that I am as
scrupulous as other people. But thenand there came on me the conviction that
I must read that telegram. Ifelt the gimlet eye of the housekeeper on
me, so I had recourse tocraft. I took out my cigarette case
as if to smoke, and clumsilyupset its contents amongst the shavings. Then

(36:44):
on my knees, I began topick them up, turning over the litter
till the telegram was exposed. Itwas in French, and I read it
quite clearly. It had been sentfrom Vienna, but the address was on
some code suive a bohare sorronoff thosewere the words. I finished my collection
of the cigarettes and turned the lidover again on the telegram, so that

(37:05):
its owner, if he chose tolook for it diligently, might find it.
When we sat in the car goinghome, Jenkinson absorbed in meditation on
the plaques. I was coming tosomething like a decision. A curious feeling
of inevitability possessed me. I hadcollected, by accident a few odd disjointed
pieces of information, and here bythe most amazing accident of all was the

(37:30):
connecting link. I knew I hadno evidence to go upon which would have
convinced the most credulous common jury.Pavia knew pit Heron so probably did lumly.
Lumly new Pavia possibly was identical withhim. Somebody in Pavia's house got
a telegram in which a trip toBokhara was indicated. It didn't sound much,

(37:52):
yet I was absolutely convinced, withthe queer sub conscious certitude of the
human brain, that pit Heron wasor was about to be in Bokhara,
and that Pavia Lumy knew of hisbeing there and was deeply concerned in his
journey. That night, after dinner, I rang up missus pit Heron.
She had had a letter from Tommy, a very dispirited letter, for he

(38:13):
had had no luck. Nobody inMoscow had seen or heard of any wandering
Englishman remotely like Charles, and Tommy, after playing the private detective for three
weeks, was nearly at the endof his tether and spoke of returning home.
I told her to send him thefollowing wire in her own name.
Go on to Bokhara, have informationyou will meet him there. She promised

(38:37):
to send the message next day andask no further questions. She was a
pearl among women. End of chaptertwo recording by Expatriate in Bangor Main.
Chapter three of the Powerhouse by JohnBuchan the sleebrivox recording is in the public

(39:01):
domain. Recording by expatriate in Bangor, Maine. Chapter three tells of a
midsummer night. Hitherto I had beenthe looker on. Now I was to
become a person of the drama.That telegram was the beginning of my active
part in this curious affair. Theysay that everybody turns up in time at

(39:24):
the corner of Piccadilly's circus if youwait long enough. I was to find
myself like a citizen of Baghdad inthe days of the Great Khliph, and
yet never stir from my routine offlat chambers, club and flat I am
wrong. There was one episode outof London, and that perhaps was the
true beginning of my story. Whitsuntidethat year came very late, and I

(39:47):
was glad of the fortnight's rest,for Parliament and the law courts had given
me a busy time. I hadrecently acquired a car and a chauffeur called
Stag, and I looked forward totrying it in tour in the West Country.
But before I left London, Iwent again to Portman Square. I
found ethel pit Heron in grave distress. You must remember that Tommy and I

(40:10):
had always gone on the hypothesis thatCharles's departure had been in pursuance of some
mad scheme of his own which mightget him into trouble. We thought that
he had become mixed up with highlyundesirable friends and was probably embarking in some
venture which might not be criminal,but was certain to be foolish. I

(40:30):
had long rejected the idea of blackmail, and convinced myself that Lumley and Pavia
were his colleagues. The same generalnotion, I fancy had been in his
wife's mind. But now she hadfound something which altered the case. She
had ransacked his papers in the hopeof finding a clue to the affair which
had taken him abroad, but therewas nothing but business letters, notes of

(40:52):
investments, and such like. Heseemed to have burned most of his papers
in the queer laboratory at the backof the house, but stuffed into the
pocket of a blotter on a bureauin the drawing room, where he scarcely
ever wrote. She had found adocument. It seemed to be the rough
draft of a letter, and itwas addressed to her. I give it
as it was written. The blankspaces were left blank in the manuscript.

(41:15):
You must have thought me mad orworse to treat you as I have done.
But there was a terrible reason whichsome day I hope to tell you
all about. I want you,as soon as you get this, to
make ready to come out to meat blank. You will travel by blank
and arrive at blank. I enclosea letter which I want you to hand
in deepest confidence to Knowles, asolicitor. He will make all arrangements about

(41:38):
your journey and about sending me thesupplies of money I want. Darling,
you must leave as secretly as Idid, and tell nobody anything, not
even that I am alive. Thatleast of all, I would not frighten
you for worlds. But I amon the edge of a horrible danger,
which I hope, with God's helpand yours, to escape. All obviously

(42:00):
the draft of a letter which heintended to post to her from some foreign
place. But can you conceive amissive more calculated to shatter a woman's nerves?
It filled me, I am boundto say, with heavy disquiet.
Pit Heron was no coward, andhe was not the man to make too
much of a risk. Yet itwas clear that he had fled that day

(42:22):
in May under the pressure of somemortal fear. The affair, in my
eyes, began to look very bad. Ethel wanted me to go to Scotland
Yard, but I dissuaded her.I had the utmost esteem for Scotland Yard,
but I shrank from publicity at thisstage. There might be something in
the case too delicate for the policeto handle, and I thought it better

(42:43):
to wait. I reflected a greatdeal about the pit heron business the first
day or two of my trip,but the air and the swift motion helped
me to forget it. We hada fortnight of superb weather and sailed all
day through a glistening green country underthe hazy blue head heavens of June.
Soon I fell into the blissful stateof physical and mental ease which such a

(43:06):
life induces. Hard toil, suchas deer stalking, keeps the nerves on
the alert and the mind active,but swimming all day in a smooth car
through a heavenly landscape mesmerizes brain andbody. We ran up the Thames Valley,
explored the Cotswolds, and turned souththrough Somerset till we reached the fringes
of Exmoor. I stayed a dayor two at a little inn high up

(43:30):
in the moor, and spent thetime tramping the endless ridges of hill,
or scrambling in the arbutous thickets wherethe moor falls and steeps to the sea.
We returned by Dartmoor and the southcoast, meeting with our first Rain
and Dorset, and sweeping into sunlightagain on Salisbury Plain. The time came
when only two days remained to me. The car had behaved beyond all my

(43:53):
hopes, and stag a somber andsilent man, was lyrical in his praises.
I wanted to be in London bythe Monday afternoon, and to insure
this I made a long day ofit on the Sunday. It was the
long day which brought our pride toa foal. The car had run so
well that I resolved to push onand sleep in a friend's house near Farnhum.

(44:17):
It was about half past eight andwe were traversing the somewhat confused and
narrow roads in the neighborhood of WolmerForest, when as we turned a sharp
corner we ran full into the tailof a heavy carrier's cart. Stagg clapped
on the brakes, but the collision, though it did no harm to the
cart, was sufficient to send thebutt end of something through our glass screen,

(44:39):
damage the tire of the near frontwheel, and derange the steering gear.
Neither of us suffered much hurt,but Stag got a long scratch on
his cheek from broken glass, andI had a bruised shoulder. The carrier
was friendly but useless, and therewas nothing for it but to arrange for
horses to take the car to Farnham. This meant a job of some hours,

(45:02):
and I found, on inquiry ata neighboring cottage that there was no
inn where I could stay within eightmiles. Stag borrowed a bicycle somehow and
went off to collect horses, whileI morosely reviewed the alternatives before me.
I did not like the prospect ofspending the June night beside my derelict car,
and the thought of my friend's housenear Farnham beckoned me seductively. I

(45:27):
might have walked there, but Idid not know the road, and I
found that my shoulder was paining me, so I resolved to try to find
some gentlemen's house in the neighborhood whereI could borrow a conveyance. The south
of England is now so densely peopledby Londoners that even in a wild district
where there are no inns and fewfarms, there are certain to be several

(45:47):
week end cottages. I walked alongthe white ribbon of road in the scented
June dusk. At first it wasbounded by high gorse, then came patches
of open heath, and then woods. Beyond the woods, I found a
park railing and presently an entrance gatewith a lodge. It seemed to be
the place I was looking for,and I woke the lodge keeper, who

(46:09):
thus early had retired to bed.I asked the name of the owner,
but was told the name of theplace instead. It was high ashes.
I asked if the owner was athome, and got a sleepy nod for
answer. The house, as seenin the half light, was a long,
whitewashed cottage, rising to two storiesin the center. It was plentifully

(46:30):
covered with creepers and roses, andthe odor of flowers was mingled with the
faintest savor of wood. Smoke pleasantto a hungry traveler in the late hours.
I pulled an old fashioned bell andthe door was opened by a stolid
young parlor maid. I explained myerrand and offered my card. I was,

(46:51):
I said, a member of Parliamentand of the bar, who had
suffered a motor accident. Would itbe possible for the master of the house
to assist me to get to mydestination near Farnham. I was bidden enter,
and wearily seated myself on a settlein the hall. In a few
minutes an ancient housekeeper appeared, agrim dame whom at other times I should

(47:12):
have shunned. She bore, however, a hospitable message. There was no
conveyance in the place, as thecar had gone that day to London for
repairs. But if I cared toavail myself of the accommodation of the house
for the night, it was atmy service. Meantime my servant could be
looking after the car, and amessage would go to him to pick me
up in the morning. I gratefullyaccepted, for my shoulder was growing troublesome,

(47:37):
and was conducted up a shallow oakstaircase to a very pleasant bedroom with
a bathroom adjoining. I had abath, and afterwards found a variety of
comforts put at my service, fromslippers to razors. There was also some
element from my wounded shoulder. Cleanand refreshed, I made my way downstairs

(47:57):
and entered a room from which Icaught a glow of light. It was
a library, the most attractive Ithink I have ever seen. The room
was long, as libraries should be, and entirely lined with books, save
over the fireplace, where hung afine picture which I took to be a
ray burn. The books were inglass cases which showed the beautiful, shallow

(48:19):
moldings of a more artistic age.A table was laid for dinner in a
corner. For the room was immense, and the shaded candlesticks on it,
along with the late June dusk,gave such light as there was. At
first I thought the place was empty, but as I crossed the floor,
a figure rose from a deep chairby the hearth. Good evening, mister

(48:39):
lythan a voice said, it isa kindly mischance which gives a lonely old
man the pleasure of your company.He switched on an electric lamp, and
I saw before me what I hadnot guessed from the voice an old man.
I was thirty four at the timeand counted anything over fifty old,
but I judged my host to bewell on in the sixties. He was

(49:01):
about my own size, but agood deal bent in the shoulders, as
if from study. His face wasclean shaven and extraordinarily fine, with every
feature delicately chiseled. He had asort of habsburg mouth and chin very long
and pointed, but mottled with agrace which made the full lower lips seem

(49:21):
entirely right. His hair was silver, brushed so low on the forehead as
to give him a slightly foreign air, and he wore tinted glasses as if
for reading. Altogether, it wasa very dignified and agreeable figure who greeted
me in a voice so full andsoft that it belied his obvious age.
Dinner was a light meal, butperfect in its way. There were souls,

(49:45):
I remember, an exceedingly well cookedchicken, fresh strawberries, and a
savory We drank a ninety five periegouetand some excellent madera. The stolid parlor
maid waited on us, and aswe talked of the weather and the Hampshire
roads. I kept trying to guessmy host's profession. He was not a
lawyer, for he had not theinevitable lines on the cheek. I thought

(50:08):
that he might be a retired OxfordDunn, or one of the higher civil
servants, or perhaps some official ofthe British Museum. His library proclaimed him
a scholar, and his voice agentleman. Afterwards, we settled ourselves in
arm chairs, and he gave mea good cigar. We talked about many
things, books, the right furnishingof a library, a little politics,

(50:30):
and deference to my mp ship.My host was apathetic about party questions,
but curious about defense matters, andin his way an amateur strategist. I
could fancy him indicting letters to theTimes on national service. Then we wandered
into foreign affairs, where I foundhis interest acute and his knowledge immense.

(50:51):
Indeed, he was so well informedthat I began to suspect that my guesses
had been wrong, and that hewas a retired diplomat. At that time,
there was some difficulty between France andItaly over customs duties, and he
sketched for me with remarkable clearness theweak points in the French tariff administration.
I had been recently engaged in abig South American railway case, and I

(51:15):
asked him a question about the propertyof my clients. He gave me a
much better account than I had evergot from the solicitors who briefed me.
The fire had been lit before wefinished dinner, and presently it began to
burn up and light the figure ofmy host, who sat in a deep
arm chair. He had taken offhis tinted glasses, and as I rose
to get a match, I sawhis eyes looking abstractedly before him. Somehow

(51:39):
they reminded me of pitt Heron.Charles had always a sort of dancing light
in his a restless intelligence which wasat once attractive and disquieting. My host
had this and more. His eyeswere paler than I had ever seen in
a human head, pale, brightand curiously wild. But whereas pitt Herons

(52:00):
had only given the impression of recklessyouth, this man spoke of wisdom and
power, as well as of endlessvitality. All my theories vanished, for
I could not believe that my hosthad ever followed any profession. If he
had, he would have been atthe head of it, and the world
would have been familiar with his features. I began to wonder if my recollection

(52:22):
was not playing me false, andI was in the presence of some great
man whom I ought to recognize.As I dived into the recesses of my
memory, I heard his voice askingif I were not a lawyer. I
told him, yes, a barristerwith a fair common law practice and some
work in Privy Council appeals. Heasked me why I chose the profession.

(52:44):
It came handiest, I said,I am a dry creature who loves facts
and logic. I am not aflier. I have no new ideas.
I don't want to lead men,and I like work. I am the
ordinary educated Englishman, and my sortgravitates to the bar. We like feeling
that if we are not the buildersat any rate, we are the cement
of civilization. He repeated the wordscement of civilization in his soft voice,

(53:09):
in a sense, you are right, but civilization needs more than the law
to hold it together. You see, all mankind are not equally willing to
accept as divine justice what is calledhuman law. Of course, there are
further sanctions, I said, policeand armies and the good will of civilization.
He caught me up quickly. Thelast is your true cement. Did

(53:32):
you ever reflect, mister lythan howprecarious is the tenure of the civilization we
boast about. I should have thoughtit fairly substantial, I said, And
the foundations grow daily? Firmer,he laughed. That is the lawyer's view.
But believe me, you are wrong. Reflect and you will find that
the foundations are sand. You thinkthat a wall as solid as the earth

(53:54):
separates civilization from barbarism. I tellyou the division is a thread sheet of
glass. A touch here, apush there, and you bring back the
rain of Saturn. It was thekind of paradoxical undergraduate speculation which grown men
indulge in sometimes. After dinner.I looked at my host to discover his

(54:15):
mood, and at the moment alog flared up again. His face was
perfectly serious. His light wild eyeswere intently watching me. Take one little
instance, he said. We area commercial world and have built up a
great system of credit. Without ourchecks and bills of exchange and currency,

(54:35):
the whole of our life would stop. But credit only exists because behind it
we have a standard of value.My Bank of England notes our worthless paper
unless I can get sovereigns for themif I choose forgive this elementary disquisition.
But the point is important. Wehave fixed a gold standard because gold is
sufficiently rare, and because it allowsitself to be coined into a portable form.

(55:00):
I am aware that there are economistswho say that the world could be
run on a pure credit basis,with no metal currency at the back of
it. But however sound their argumentmay be, in the abstract, the
thing is practically impossible. You wouldhave to convert the whole of the world's
stupidity to their economic faith before itwould work. Now, suppose something happened

(55:22):
to make our standard of value useless. Suppose the dream of the alchemists came
true and all metals were readily transmutable. We have got very near it in
recent years, as you will knowif you interest yourself in chemical science.
Once gold and silver lost their intrinsicvalue, the whole edifice of our commerce

(55:42):
would collapse. Credit would become meaninglessbecause it would be untranslatable. We should
be back at a bound in theage of barter, for it is hard
to see what other standard of valuecould take the place of the precious metals.
All our civilization, with its industriesand commerce, would come toppling down
once more, Like primitive man.I would plant cabbages for a living,

(56:06):
and exchange them for services in kindfor the cobbler and the butcher. We
should have the simple life with avengeance, not the self conscious simplicity of
the civilized man, but the compulsorysimplicity of the savage. I was not
greatly impressed by the illustration. Ofcourse, there are many key points in
civilization, I said, and theloss of them would bring ruin. But

(56:29):
these keys are strongly held, notso strongly as you think. Consider how
delicate the machine is growing. Aslife grows more complex, the machinery grows
more intricate and therefore more vulnerable.Your so called sanctions become so infinitely numerous
that each in itself is frail.In the dark ages, you had one

(56:51):
great power, the terror of Godin his church. Now you have a
multiplicity of small things, all delicateand fragile, and strong only by our
tacit agreement not to question them.You forget one thing, I said,
the fact that men really are agreedto keep the machine going. That is
what I call the good will ofcivilization. He got up from his chair

(57:14):
and walked up and down the floor, a curious dusky figure, lit by
the rare spurts of flame from thehearth. You have put your finger on
the one thing that matters civilization isa conspiracy. What value would your police
be if every criminal could find asanctuary across the channel, or your law
courts if no other tribunal recognized theirdecisions. Modern life is the silent compact

(57:39):
of comfortable folk to keep up pretenses, and it will succeed till the day
comes when there is another compact tostrip them bare. I do not think
that I have ever listened to astranger conversation. It was not so much
what he said, you will hearthe same thing from any group of half
baked young men as the air withwhich he said it. The room was

(58:00):
almost dark, but the man's personalityseemed to take shape and bulk in the
gloom. Though I could scarcely seehim, I knew that those pale,
strange eyes were looking at me.I wanted more light, but did not
know where to look for a switch. It was all so eerie and odd,
that I began to wonder if myhost were not a little mad.

(58:22):
In any case, I was tiredof his speculations. We won't dispute on
the indisputable, I said, ButI should have thought that it was the
interest of all the best brains ofthe world to keep up what you call
the conspiracy. He dropped into hischair again. I wonder, he said,
slowly, do we really get thebest brains working on the side of
the compact? Take the business ofgovernment? When all is said, we

(58:45):
are ruled by the amateurs in thesecond rate. The methods of our departments
would bring any private firm to bankruptcy. The methods of parliament, pardon me,
would disgrace any board of directors.Our rulers pretend to buy expert knowledge,
but they never pay the price forit that a business man would pay.

(59:05):
And if they get it, theyhave not the courage to use it.
Where is the inducement for a manof genius to sell his brains to
our insipid governors? And yet knowledgeis the only power now as ever,
a little mechanical device will wreck yournavies, a new chemical combination will upset
every rule of war. It isthe same with our commerce. One or

(59:27):
two minute changes might sink Britain tothe level of Ecuador, or give China
the key of the world's wealth.And yet we never dream that these things
are possible. We think our castlesof sand are the ramparts of the universe.
I have never had the gift ofthe gab, but I admire it
in others. There is a morbidcharm in such talk, a kind of

(59:47):
exhilaration of which one is half ashamed. I found myself interested in more than
a little impressed. But surely,I said. The first thing a discoverer
does is to make his discovery public. He wants the honor and glory,
and he wants money for it.It becomes part of the world's knowledge,
and everything is readjusted to meet it. That was what happened with electricity.

(01:00:10):
You call our civilization a machine,but it is something far more flexible.
It has the power of adaptation ofa living organism. Well, that might
be true if the new knowledge reallybecame the world's property. But does it.
I read now and then in thepapers that some eminent scientists has made
a great discovery. He reads apaper before some academy of science, and

(01:00:31):
there are leading articles on it inhis photograph adorns the magazines. That kind
of man is not the danger.He is a bit of the machine,
a party to the compact. Itis the men who stand outside it that
are to be reckoned, with theartists in discovery, who will never use
their knowledge till they can use itwith full effect. Believe me, the

(01:00:52):
biggest brains are without the ring whichwe call civilization. Then his voice seemed
to hesitate. You may hear peoplesay that submarines have done away with the
battleship, and that air craft haveannulled the mastery of the sea. That
is what our pessimists say. Butdo you imagine that the clumsy submarine or

(01:01:12):
the fragile aeroplane is really the lastword of science. No doubt they will
develop, I said, But bythat time the power of the defense will
have advanced. Also, he shookhis head. It is not so.
Even now. The knowledge which makespossible great engines of destruction is far beyond
the capacity of any defense. Yousee only the productions of second rate folk

(01:01:35):
who are in a hurry to getwealth and fame. The true knowledge,
that deadly knowledge, is still keptsecret. But believe me, my friend,
it is there. He paused fora second, and I saw the
faint outline of the smoke from hiscigar against the background of the dark.
Then he quoted me one or twocases, slowly, as if in some
doubt about the wisdom of his words. It was these cases which star.

(01:02:00):
They were of different kinds, agreat calamity, a sudden breach between two
nations, a blight on a vitalcrop, a war, a pestilence.
I will not repeat them. Ido not think I believed in them then,
and now I believe less. Butthey were horribly impressive, as told
in that quiet voice in that somberroom on that dark June night. If

(01:02:22):
he was right, these things hadnot been the work of nature or accident,
but of a devilish art. Thenameless brains that he spoke of,
working silently in the background now andthen showed their power by some cataclysmic revelation.
I did not believe him. Butas he put the case, showing
with strange clearness the steps in thegame, I had no words to protest.

(01:02:45):
At last I found my voice whatyou describe as super anarchy, And
yet it makes no headway. Whatis the motive of those diabolical brains,
he laughed, How should I beable to tell you? I am a
humble inquirer, and in my researchas I come on curious bits of fact,
but I cannot pry into motives.I only know of the existence of

(01:03:08):
great extra social intelligences. Let ussay that they distrust the machine. They
may be idealists and desire to makea new world, or they may simply
be artists, loving for its ownsake the pursuit of truth. If I
were to hazard a guess, Ishould say that it took both types to
bring about results, for the secondfind the knowledge, and the first the

(01:03:30):
will to use it. A recollectioncame back to me. It was of
a hot upland meadow in Tyrol,where, among acres of flowers and beside
a leaping stream, I was breakfastingafter a morning spent in climbing the white
crags. I had picked up aGerman on the way, a small man
of the professor class, who didme the honor to share my sandwiches.

(01:03:52):
He conversed fluently but quaintly in English, and he was, I remember,
a Nietzschean, and a hot rebelagainst the established order. The pity,
he cried, is that the reformersdo not know, and those who know
are too idle to reform. Someday there will come the marriage of knowledge
and will, and then the worldwill march. You draw an awful picture,

(01:04:15):
I said, But if those extrasocial brains are so potent, why,
after all, do they effect solittle. A dull police officer with
the machine behind him can afford tolaugh at most experiments. And anarchy,
true, he said, And civilizationwill win until its enemies learn from it
the importance of the machine. Thecompact must endure until there is a counter

(01:04:38):
compact. Consider the ways of thatform of foolishness, which today we call
naiolism or anarchy. A few illiteratebandits in a Paris slum defy the world,
and in a week they are injail. Half a dozen crazy Russian
intellectuals in Geneva conspire to upset theRomanovs and are hunted down by the police

(01:04:59):
of youth Europe, all the governments, in their not very intelligent police forces,
join hands, and hey, presto, there is an end of the
conspirators. For civilization knows how touse such powers as it has, While
the immense potentiality of the unlicensed isdissipated in vapor. Civilization wins because of
the world wide league. Its enemiesfail because they are parochial. But supposing

(01:05:26):
again, he stopped and rose fromhis chair. He found a switch and
flooded the room with light. Iglanced up, blinking to see my host
smiling down on me, a mostbenevolent and courteous old gentleman. He had
resumed his tinted glasses. Forgive me, he said, for leaving you in
darkness while I bored you with mygloomy prognostications. A recluse is apt to

(01:05:47):
forget what is due to a guest. He handed the cigar box to me
and pointed to a table where whiskeyand mineral waters had been set out.
I want to hear the end ofyour prophecies, I said you were saying.
I said, supposing anarchy learn fromcivilization and became international. Oh.
I don't mean the bands of advertisingdonkeys who call themselves international unions of workers

(01:06:13):
and such like rubbish. I meanif the real brain stuff of the world
were internationalized. Suppose that the linksin the cordon of civilization were neutralized by
other links in a far more potentchain. The earth is seething with incoherent
power and unorganized intelligence. Have youever reflected on the case of China.

(01:06:34):
There you have millions of quick brainsstifled in trumpery crafts. They have no
direction, no driving power, sothe sum of their efforts is feudile.
And the world laughs at China.Europe throws her a million or two on
loan now and then, and shecynically responds by begging the prayers of Christendom.
And yet I say, supposing it'sa horrible idea, I said,

(01:06:57):
And thank God, I don't believeit possible. Mere destruction is too barren
a creed to inspire a new Napoleon. And you can do with nothing short
of one. It would scarcely bedestruction, he replied gently. Let us
call it iconoclasm, the swallowing offormulas, which has always had its full
retinue of idealists. And you donot want a Napoleon. All that is

(01:07:20):
needed is direction, which could begiven by men of far lower gifts than
a Bonaparte. In a word,you want a powerhouse, and then the
age of miracles will begin. Igot up for the hour was late and
I had had enough of this view. We talk. My host was smiling,
and I think that smile was thething I really disliked about him.

(01:07:42):
It was too what shall I say, superior and olympian. As he led
me into the hole, he apologizedfor indulging his whims. But you,
as a lawyer, should welcome theidea. If there is an atom of
truth in my fancies, your taskis far bigger than you thought. You
were not defending an easy case,but fighting in a contest where the issues

(01:08:03):
are still doubtful. That should encourageyour professional pride. By all the rules,
I should have been sleepy, forit was past midnight and I had
had a long day in the openair. But that wretched talk had unsettled
me, and I could not getmy mind off it. I have reproduced,
very crudely the substance of my host'sconversation, but no words of mine

(01:08:27):
could do justice to his eerie persuasiveness. There was a kind of magnetism in
the man, a sense of vastpowers and banked up fires, which would
have given weight to the tritis platitudes. I had a horrible feeling that he
was trying to convince me, tofascinate me, to prepare the ground for
some proposal. Again and again Itold myself it was crazy, nonsense,

(01:08:49):
the heated dream of a visionary.But again and again I came back to
some details which had a horrid airof reality. If the man was a
romancer, he had an un commongift of realism. I flung open my
bedroom window and let in the softair of the June night, and the
scents from leagues of clover and pinesand sweet grasses. It momentarily refreshed me,

(01:09:13):
for I could not believe that thishomely and gracious world held such dire
portents. But always that phrase ofhis, the powerhouse, kept recurring.
You know how twisted your thoughts getduring a wakeful night, And long before
I fell asleep towards morning, Ihad worked myself up into a very complete
dislike of that bland and smiling gentlemanmy host. Suddenly it occurred to me

(01:09:39):
that I did not know his name, and that set me off on another
train of reflection. I did notwait to be cold, but rose about
seven dressed and went downstairs. Iheard the sound of a car on the
gravel of the drive, and tomy delight saw that Stagg had arrived.
I wanted to get away from thehouse as soon as possible, and I

(01:09:59):
had no desire to meet its masteragain in this world. The grim housekeeper
who answered my summons, received myexplanation in silence. Breakfast would be ready
in twenty minutes. Eight was misterLumley's hour for it, Mister Andrew Lumley,
I asked, with a start,mister Andrew Lumley. She said,

(01:10:19):
so that was my host's name.I sat down at a bureau in the
hall and did a wildly foolish thing. I wrote a letter beginning dear mister
Lumley, thanking him for his kindnessin explaining the reason of my early departure.
It was imperative, I said thatI should be in London by mid
day. Then I added, Iwish I had known who you were last

(01:10:41):
night, for I think you knowan old friend of mine, Charles pitt
Herron. Breakfastless, I joined Stagin the car, and soon we were
swinging down from the uplands to theshallow vale of the way. My thoughts
were very little on my new toyor on the midsummer beauties of Surrey,
the friend of pitt Heron, whoknew about his going to Bokhara, was

(01:11:02):
the maniac who dreamed of the Powerhouse. There were going to be dark scenes
in the drama before it was playedout. End of chapter three. Recording
by Expatriot in Bangor, Maine.Chapter four of The Powerhouse by John Buchan.

(01:11:32):
This Librivok's recording is in the publicdomain. Recording by Expatriot in Bangor,
Maine, Chapter four. I followedthe trail of the super Butler.
My first thought as I journeyed towardsLondon was that I was horribly alone in
this business. Whatever was to bedone, I must do it myself.

(01:11:54):
For the truth was I had noevidence which any authority would recognize. Pitt
Heron was the friend of a strangebeing who collected objects of art, probably
under an alias, in South London, and had absurd visions of the end
of civilization. That, in cold, black and white was all my story
came to. If I went tothe police, they would laugh at me,

(01:12:16):
and they would be right. Now. I am a sober and practical
person, but slender though my evidencewas, it brought to my mind the
most absolute conviction I seemed to knowpitt Heron's story as if I had heard
it from his own lips. Hisfirst meeting with Lumley, in their growing
friendship, his initiation into secret andforbidden things, the revolt of the decent

(01:12:41):
man, appolled that his freakishness hadled him so far, the realization that
he could not break so easily withhis past, and that Lumly held him
in his power. And last,the mad flight under the pressure of overwhelming
terror. I could read too thepurpose of that flight. He knew the
Indian frontier as few men know it, and in the wild tangle of the

(01:13:03):
pomiers he hoped to baffle his enemy. Then from some far refuge he would
send for his wife and spend therest of his days in exile. It
must have been an omnipotent terror todrive such a man, young, brilliant,
rich successful, to the fate ofan absconding felon. But Lumley was

(01:13:25):
on his trail. So I readthe telegram I had picked up on the
floor of the Blackheath House, andmy business was to frustrate the pursuit.
Some one must have gone to Bohara, some creature of Lumley's, perhaps the
super butler I had met in thecounty court. The telegram for I had
noted the date had been received onthe twenty seventh day of May. It

(01:13:46):
was now the fifteenth of June.So if someone had started immediately on its
receipt, in all probability, hewould by now be in Bokhara. I
must find out who had gone,and endeavor to warn time. I calculated
that it would have taken him sevenor eight days to get from Moscow by
the trans Caspian. Probably he wouldfind pit Heron gone, but inquiries would

(01:14:11):
set him on the track. Imight be able to get in touch with
him through the Russian officials. Inany case, if Lumley were stalking pit
Heron, I, unknown and unsuspected, would be stalking Lumley. And then
in a flash I realized my folly. The wretched letter I had written that
morning had given the whole show away. Lumley knew that I was a friend

(01:14:33):
of pitt Heron, and that Iknew that he was a friend of pitt
Heron. If my guess was right, friendship with Lumley was not a thing
Charles was likely to confess to,and he would argue that My knowledge of
it meant that I was in Charles'sconfidence. I would therefore know of his
disappearance and its cause, and alonein London, would connect it with the

(01:14:55):
decorous bachelor of the Albany. Myletter was a warn to him that he
could not play the game unobserved,and I too would be suspect in his
eyes. It was no good cryingover spilt milk in lumly suspicions must be
accepted. But I confess the thoughtgave me the shivers. The man had
a curious terror for me, aterror I cannot hope to analyze and reproduce

(01:15:20):
for you. My bald words cangive no idea of the magnetic force of
his talk, the sense of broodingand unholy craft. I was proposing to
match my wits against a master's one, too, who must have at his
command an organization far beyond my punyefforts. I have said that my first

(01:15:42):
feeling was that of loneliness and isolation. My second was one of hopeless insignificance.
It was a boy's mechanical toy arrayedagainst a powerhouse, with its shining
wheels in monstrous dynamos. My firstbusiness was to get into touch with Tommy.
At that time I had a friendin one of the embassies whose acquaintance

(01:16:03):
I had made on a dry flystream in Hampshire. I will not tell
you his name, for he hassince become a great figure in the world's
diplomacy, and I am by nomeans certain that the part he played in
this tale was strictly in accordance withofficial etiquette. I had assisted him on
the legal side in some of theinternational worries that beset all embassies, and

(01:16:27):
we had reached the point of intimacy, which is marked by the use of
Christian names and by dining frequently together. Let us call him Monsieur Felix.
He was a grave young man,slightly my senior, learned, discreet and
ambitious, but with an engaging boyishnesscropping up now and then under the official
gold lace. It occurred to methat in him I might find an ally.

(01:16:51):
I reached London about eleven in themorning and went straight to Belgrave Square.
Felix I found in the little libraryoff the Big Secretary's room, a
sun burnt sportsman, fresh from aNorwegian salmon river. I asked him if
he had half an hour to spare, and was told that the day was
at my service. You know TommyDoulraine, I asked. He nodded,

(01:17:15):
and Charles pitt Heron, I haveheard of him. Well, here is
my trouble. I have reason tobelieve that Tommy has joined pit Heron in
Bokhara. If he has, mymind will be greatly relieved. For though
I can't tell you the story,I can tell you that pit Heron is
in very considerable danger. Can youhelp me? Felix reflected That should be

(01:17:38):
simple enough. I can wire incipher to the military governor. The police
there are pretty efficient, as youmay imagine, and travelers don't come and
go without being remarked. I shouldbe able to give you an answer within
twenty four hours. But I mustdescribe Tommy. How does one do that
in telegraphees? I want you totell me another thing, I said.

(01:18:00):
You remember that pitt Heron has somereputation as a Central Asian traveler. Tommy,
as you know, is as madas a hatter. Suppose these two
fellows at Bokhara wanting to make along trek into wild country? How would
they go? You've been there andknow the lie of the land. Felix
got down a big German atlas,and for half an hour we poured over

(01:18:23):
it. From Bokhara, he said, the only routes for Madmen ran to
the south, east and north.You got into Siberia, west lay the
trans Caspian Desert. But southward youmight go through the Hissar Range by Pomirsky
Post to Gilgit in Kashmere. Oryou might follow up the Oxus and enter
the north of Afghanistan. Or youmight go by merv into northeastern Persia.

(01:18:48):
The first, he thought the likeliestroute if a man wanted to travel fast.
I asked him to put in hiscable a suggestion about watching the Indian
roads, and left him with apromise of earth enlightenment. Then I went
down to the temple, fixed someconsultations, and spent a quiet evening in
my rooms. I had a heavysense of impending disaster, not unnatural in

(01:19:12):
the circumstances. I really cannot thinkwhat it was that held me to the
job, for I don't mind admittingthat I felt pretty queasy about it,
partly no doubt, liking for Tommyand Ethel, partly regret for that unfortunate
fellow pitt Heron. Most of all, I think dislike of Lumly that Bland
Superman had fairly stirred my prosaic antipathies. That night, I went carefully over

(01:19:39):
every item in the evidence to tryand decide on my next step. I
had got to find out more aboutmy enemies. Lumly, I was pretty
certain would baffle me, but Ithought I might have a better chance with
the super Butler. As it turnedout, I hid his trail almost at
once. Next day I was ina case at the Old Bailey. It

(01:20:00):
was an important prosecution for fraud,and I appeared with two leaders for the
bank concerned. The amazing and almostincredible thing about this story of mine is
the way clues kept rolling in unsolicited, and I was to get another from
this dull prosecution. I suppose thatthe explanation is that the world is full
of clues to everything, and thatif a man's mind is sharp set on

(01:20:25):
any quest, he happens to noticeand take advantage of what otherwise he would
miss. My leaders were both absentthe first day, and I had to
examine our witnesses alone. Towards theclose of the afternoon, I put a
fellow in the box, an Oldishdrink sodden clerk from a Cannon Street bucket
shop. His evidence was valuable forour case, but I was very doubtful

(01:20:47):
how he would stand across examination asto credit. His name was Routh,
and he spoke with a strong NorthCountry accent. But what caught my attention
was his face. His jaw lookedas if it had been made in two
pieces which did not fit, andhe had little, bright, protuberant eyes.
At my first glance, I wasconscious of a recollection. He was

(01:21:11):
still in the box when the courtrose, and I informed the solicitors that
before going further, I wanted aconference with a witness. I mentioned also
that I should like to see himalone. A few minutes later he was
brought to my chambers and I putone or two obvious questions on the case
till the managing clerk who accompanied himannounced, with many excuses, that he

(01:21:33):
must hurry away. Then I shutthe door, gave mister Routh a cigar,
and proceeded to conduct a private inquiry. He was a pathetic, being
only too ready to talk. Ilearned the squalid details of his continuous misfortunes.
He had been the son of adissenting minister in Northumberland, and had

(01:21:53):
drifted through half a dozen occupations tillhe found his present unsavory billet. Truth
was written low charge on his statement. He had nothing to conceal, for
his foible was folly, not crime, and he had not a rag of
pride to give him reticence. Heboasted that he was a gentleman and well
educated too, but he had neverhad a chance. His brother had advised

(01:22:15):
him badly. His brother was tooclever for a prosaic world. Always through
his reminiscences came this echo of fraternaladmiration and complaint. It was about the
brother I wanted to know, andmister Routh was very willing to speak.
Indeed, it was hard to disentanglefact from his copious outpourings. The brother
had been an engineer, and ahighly successful one, had dallied with politics

(01:22:40):
too, and had been a greatinventor. He had put mister Routh on
to a South American speculation, wherehe had made a little money, but
speedily lost it again. Oh,he had been a good brother in his
way, and had often helped him. But he was a busy man,
and his help never went quite farenough. Besides, he did not like
to apply to him too often.I gathered that the brother was not a

(01:23:02):
person to take liberties with. Iasked him what he was doing now,
Ah, said mister Rouve. Thatis what I wish I could tell you.
I will not conceal from you thatfor the moment, I am in
considerable financial straits, and this case, though my hands are clean enough,
God knows, will not make lifeeasier for me. My brother is a

(01:23:23):
mysterious man whose business often takes himabroad. I have never known even his
address, for I write always toa London office from which my communications are
forwarded. I only know that heis in some big electrical business, for
I remember that he once let dropthe remark that he was in charge of
some power station. No, Ido not think it is in London,

(01:23:45):
probably somewhere abroad. I heard fromhim a fortnight ago, and he told
me he was just leaving England fora couple of months. It is very
annoying for I want badly to getinto touch with him. Do you know,
mister Routh, I said, Ibelieve I have met your brother.
Is he like you? In anyway. We have a strong family resemblance,
but he is taller and slimmer.He has been more prosperous and has

(01:24:09):
lived a healthier life. You see, do you happen to know? I
asked if he ever uses another name? I don't think that the man I
knew was called Routh. The clerkflushed. I think it highly unlikely that
my brother would use an alias.He has done nothing to disgrace a name
of which we are proud. Itold him that my memory had played me

(01:24:29):
false, and we parted on verygood terms. He was an innocent soul,
one of those people that clever rascalsget to do their dirty work for
them. But there was no mistakingthe resemblance. There without the brains and
force and virility went my super butlerof Blackheath, who passed under the name
of Tuke. The clerk had givenme the name of the office to whose

(01:24:51):
address he had written to his brother. I was not surprised to find that
it was that of the firm ofstockbrokers for whom I was still acting in
the Arabahd's case, where I hadheard Pavia's name. I rang up the
partner whom I knew and told hima very plausible story of having a message
for one of mister Pavia's servants,and asked him if he were in touch

(01:25:12):
with them and could forward letters.He made me hold the line and then
came back and told me that hehad forwarded letters for Tuke, the butler,
and one Routh, who was agroom or footman. Tuke had gone
abroad to join his master, andhe did not know his address, but
he advised me to write to theWhite Lodge. I thanked him and rang
off. That was settled anyhow.Tuke's real name was Routh, and it

(01:25:35):
was Tuke who had gone to Bokhara. My next step was to ring up
mc gillivray at Scotland Yard and getan appointment. In half an hour's time.
McGillivray had been at the bar Ihad read in his chambers, and
was now one of the heads ofthe Criminal Investigation Department. I was about
to ask him for information which hewas in no way bound to give me,

(01:25:57):
but I presumed on our old acquaintance. I asked him first whether he
had ever heard of a secret organizationwhich went under the name of the Powerhouse.
He laughed, out loud at myquestion. I should think we have
several hundreds of such pet names onour records. He said, everything from
the Lodge of the bold Faced Ravensto Solomon Seal number ten. Fancy nomenclature

(01:26:19):
is the relaxation of the tired anarchist. In matters very little. The dangerous
fellows have no names, no numberseven which we can get hold of.
But I'll get a man to lookup our records. There may be something
filed about your powerhouse. My secondquestion, he answered differently, Routh Routh.

(01:26:41):
Why, yes, there was aRouth we had dealings with a dozen
years ago when I used to gothe Northeastern circuit. He was a trade
union official who bagged the funds,and they couldn't bring him to justice because
of the ridiculous extra legal status theypossessed. He knew it and played their
own privileges against them. Oh yes, he was a very complete rogue.

(01:27:01):
I once saw him at a meetingin Sunderland, and I remember his face,
sneering eyes, diabolically clever mouth andwith it all as smug as a
family butler. He has disappeared fromEngland. At least we haven't heard of
him for some years, but Ican show you his photograph. Mc gillivray
brought from a lettered cabinet a bundleof cards, selected one and tossed it

(01:27:25):
towards me. It was that ofa man of thirty or so, with
short side whiskers and a drooping mustache. The eyes, the ill fitting jaw,
and the brow were those of myfriend mister Tuke, brother and patron
of the sorrowful mister Routh, whohad already that afternoon occupied my attention.
Mc gillivray promised to make certain inquiries, and I walked home in a state

(01:27:47):
of elation. Now I knew forcertain who had gone to Bokhara, and
I knew something too, of thetraveler's past. A discredited genius was the
very man for Lumley's schemes, onewho asked for nothing better than to use
his brains outside the ring fence ofconvention. Somewhere in the waste of Turkestan,

(01:28:08):
the ex trade union official was insearch of pit Heron. I did
not fancy that mister Tuke would bevery squeamish. I dined at the club
and left early, going home.I had an impression that I was being
shadowed. You know, the feelingthat someone is watching you, a sort
of sensation which the mind receives withoutactual evidence. If the watcher is behind

(01:28:30):
where you can't see him, youhave a cold feeling between your shoulders.
I dare say it is a legacyfrom the days when the caveman had to
look pretty sharp to keep from gettinghis enemy's knife between the ribs. It
was a bright summer evening, andPiccadilly had its usual crowd of motor cars
and buses and foot passengers. Ihalted twice, once in Saint James's Street

(01:28:53):
and once at the corner of StrattonStreet, and retraced my steps for a
bit, and each time I hadthem pcression that someone a hundred yards or
so off had done the same.My instinct was to turn round and face
him, whoever he was, butI saw that that was foolishness. Obviously,
in such a crowd, I couldget no certainty in the matter,

(01:29:14):
so I put it out of mymind. I spent the rest of the
evening in my rooms, reading casesand trying to keep my thoughts off Central
Asia. About ten I was wrungup on the telephone by Felix. He
had had his answer from Bokhara.Pitt Heron had left with a small caravan
on June second by the main roadthrough the Hissar Range. Tommy had arrived

(01:29:36):
on June tenth, and on thetwelfth had set off with two servants on
the same trail, traveling the lighterof the two. He should have overtaken
pitt Heron by the fifteenth at latest. That was yesterday, and my mind
was immensely relieved. Tommy in sucha situation was a tower of strength,
for whatever his failings in politics.I knew no one and I would rather

(01:30:00):
have with me to go tiger shooting. Next day, the sense of espionage
increased. I was in the habitof walking down to the Temple by way
of Pall Mall and the Embankment,but as I did not happen to be
in court that morning, I resolvedto make a detour and test my suspicions.
There seemed to be nobody in downstreet as I emerged from my flat,

(01:30:21):
but I had not walked five yardsbefore turning back. I saw a
man enter from the Piccadilly end,while another moved across the Hertford Street opening.
It may have been only my imagination, but I was convinced that these
were my watchers. I walked upPark Lane, for it seemed to me
that by taking the tube at theMarble Arch station I could bring matters to

(01:30:43):
the proof. I have a knackof observing small, irrelevant details, and
I happened to have noticed that acertain carriage in the train which left Marble
Arch about nine thirty stopped exactly oppositethe exit at the Chancery Lane station,
and by hurrying up the passage,one could just catch the lift, which
served an earlier train, and soreached the street before any of the other

(01:31:05):
travelers. I performed this maneuver withsuccess, caught the early lift, reached
the street, and took cover behinda pillar box, from which I could
watch the exit of passengers from thestairs. I judged that my tracker,
if he missed me below, wouldrun up the stairs rather than wait for
the lift. Sure Enough, abreathless gentleman appeared, who scanned the street

(01:31:29):
eagerly and then turned to the liftto watch the emerging passengers. It was
clear that the espionage was no figmentof my brain. I walked slowly to
my chambers and got through the day'swork as best I could, for my
mind was preoccupied with the unpleasant businessin which I found myself entangled. I
would have given a year's income tobe honestly quit of it, but there

(01:31:51):
seemed to be no way of escape. The maddening thing was that I could
do so little. There was nochance of forgetting anxiety in strenuous work.
I could only wait with the patienceat my command, and hope for the
one chance in a thousand which Imight seize. I felt miserably that it
was no gain for me. Ihad never been brought up to harry wild

(01:32:13):
beasts and risked my neck twice aday at polo. Like Tommy de Lorraine,
I was a peaceful, sedentary man, a lover of a quiet life,
with no appetite for perils and commotions. But I was beginning to realize
that I was very obstinate. Atfour o'clock I left the temple and walked
to the embassy. I had resolvedto banish the espionage from my mind,

(01:32:36):
for that was the least of mydifficulties. Felix gave me an hour of
his valuable time. It was somethingthat Tommy had joined pitt Heron, but
there were other matters to be arrangedin that far country. The time had
come, in my opinion, totell him the whole story. The telling
was a huge relief to my mind. He did not laugh at me,

(01:32:57):
as I had half feared, buttook the whole thing as as gravely as
possible. In his profession. Ifancy he had found too many certainties behind
suspicions to treat anything as trivial.The next step, he said, was
to warn the Russian police of thepresence of the man called Saranov and the
super butler. Happily we had materialsfor the description of tuk or Routh,

(01:33:18):
and I could not believe that sucha figure would be hard to trace.
Felix cabled again in cipher, askingthat the two should be watched more,
especially if there was reason to believethat they had followed Tommy's route. Once
more, we got out the bigmap and discussed the possible ways. It
seemed to me a land created byprovidence for surprises. For the roads followed

(01:33:41):
the valleys, and to the manwho traveled light, there must be many
short cuts through the hills. Ileft the embassy before six o'clock, and,
crossing the square, engrossed with myown thoughts, ran full into Lumley.
I hope I played my part well, though I could not repress a
start of surprise. He wore agray morning coat and a white top hat

(01:34:02):
and looked the image of benevolent respectability. Ah, mister Lyithn, he said,
we meet again. I murmured somethingabout my regrets at my early departure
three days ago, and added thefeeble joke that I wished he would hurry
on his twilight of civilization, forthe burden of it was becoming too much

(01:34:23):
for me. He looked me inthe eyes with all the friendliness in the
world. So you have not forgottenour evening's talk. You owe me something,
my friend, for giving you anew interest in your profession. I
owe you much, I said,for your hospitality, your advice, and
your warnings. He was wearing histinted glasses and peered quizzically into my face.

(01:34:44):
I am going to make a callin Grosvenor place, he said,
and shall beg in return the pleasureof your company. So you know,
my young friend pitt heron with aningenuous countenance, I explained, that he
had been at Oxford with me,and that we had common friends. A
brilliant young man said Lumly like you. He has occasionally cheered an old man's
solitude, and he has spoken ofme to you. Yes, I said,

(01:35:09):
lying stoutly. He used to tellme about your collections. If Lumley
knew Charles Well, he would findme out, for the latter would not
have crossed the road for all thetreasures of the louver. Ah. Yes,
I have picked up a few things, if ever you should care to
see them. I should be honoredyou are a connoisseur of a sort.
You interest me, for I shouldhave thought your taste lay in other directions

(01:35:32):
than the dead things of art.Pit Heron is no collector. He loves
life better than art, as ayoung man should. A great traveler.
Our friend, the Lawrence Oliphant orRichard Burton of our day, we stopped
at a house in Grosvenor Place,and he relinquished my arm. Mister lythan
he said a word from one whowishes you no ill. You are a

(01:35:56):
friend of pitt Heron, but wherehe goes you cannot follow. Take my
advice and keep out of his affairs. You will do no good to him,
and you may bring yourself into seriousdanger. You are a man of
sense, a practical man. SoI speak to you frankly, but remember
I do not warn. Twice hetook off his glasses, and his light

(01:36:17):
wild eyes looked me straight in theface. All benevolence had gone, and
something implacable and deadly burned in them. Before I could say a word in
reply, he shuffled up the stepsof the house and was gone. End
of chapter four. Recording by expatriatein Bangor, Maine. Chapter five of

(01:36:46):
The Powerhouse by John Buchan. TheSlebrivat's recording is in the public domain.
Recording by Expatriot in Bangor, Maine, Chapter five. I take a partner
That meeting with Lumley scared me badly, but it also clinched my resolution.
The most pacific fellow on earth canbe gingered into pugnacity. I had now

(01:37:10):
more than my friendship for Tommy andmy sympathy with pet Heron to urge me
on. A man had tried tobully me, and that roused all the
worst stubbornness of my soul. Iwas determined to see the game through at
any cost. But I must havean ally if my nerves were to hold
out. And my mind turned atonce to Tommy's friend Chapman, I thought

(01:37:31):
with comfort of the bluff independence ofthe labor member. So that night at
the house I hunted him out inthe smoking room. He had been having
a row with the young bloods ofmy party that afternoon and received me ungraciously.
I'm about sick of you, fellows, he growled. I shall not
attempt to reproduce Chapman's accent. Hespoke rich Yorkshire with a touch of the

(01:37:53):
droll of the western Dales. Theywent and spoiled the best speech, though
I say it as shouldn't, whichthis old place has heard for a twelve
month. I've been working for daysat it. In the library, I
was telling them how much more breadcost under protection, and the jew Hilderstein
started a laugh because I said kilometersfor kilograms. It was just a slip

(01:38:14):
of the tongue, for I hadit write in my notes, And besides,
there foreign words don't matter a curse. Then that young lord assists for
East Claygate gets up and goes outas I was getting into my puration,
and he drops his topper and knocksoff Old Higgins's spectacles, and all the
idiots laughed. After that, Igave it them hot and strong and get
cold to order, and then waddleshim as used to be as good as

(01:38:39):
socialist as me replied for the governmentand his blamed board, and said that
the board thought this, and theboard thought that, and was damned if
the board would stir its stumps.Well, I mind the day when I
was hanging onto the board's coat tailsin Hyde Park to keep it from talking
treason. Took me a long timeto get Chapman settled down and anchored to

(01:39:00):
a drink. I want you,I said, to tell me about Routh.
You know the fellow I mean,the ex union leader. At that
he fairly blazed up. There youare, you Tories, he shouted,
causing a pale Liberal member on thenext sofa to make a hurried exit.
You can't fight fair. You hatethe unions, and you rake up any
rotten old prejudice to discredit them.You can find out about Roud for yourself,

(01:39:26):
for I'm damned if I help you. I saw I could do nothing
with Chapman unless I made a cleanbreast of it. So for the second
time that day I told the wholestory. I couldn't have wished for a
better audience. He got wildly excitedbefore I was half through with it.
No doubt of the correctness of myevidence ever entered his head. For like
most of his party, he hatedanarchism worse than capitalism, and the notion

(01:39:50):
of a highly capitalized, highly scientific, highly undemocratic anarchism fairly revolted his soul.
Nights. He adored Tommy de LorraineRound, he told me, had
been a young engineer of a superiortype, with a job in a big
shop at Sheffield's. He had professedadvanced political views, and although he had

(01:40:12):
strictly no business to be there,had taken a large part in trade union
work, and was treasurer of onebig branch. Chapman had met him often
at conferences and on platforms, andhad been impressed by the fertility and ingenuity
of his mind and the boldness ofhis purpose. He was the leader of
the left wing of the movement,and had that gift of half scientific,

(01:40:35):
half philosophic jargon which is dear atall times to the hearts of the half
baked. A seat in Parliament hadbeen repeatedly offered him, but he had
always declined. Wisely, Chapman thought, for he judged him the type which
is more effective behind the scenes.But with all his ability, he had
not been popular. He was acold blooded, sneering devil. As Chapman

(01:40:59):
put it to Parnell. He tyrannizedover his followers, and he was the
rudest brute I ever met. Thenfollowed the catastrophe in which it became apparent
that he had speculated with the fundsof his union and had lost a large
sum. Chapman, however, wassuspicious of these losses, and was inclined
to suspect that he had the moneyall the time in a safe place.

(01:41:21):
A year or two earlier, theunions, greatly to the disgust of old
fashioned folk, had been given certainextra legal privileges, and this man Routh
had been one of the chief advocatesof the union's claims. Now he had
the cool effrontry to turn the tableson them and use those very privileges to
justify his action and escape prosecution.There was nothing to be done. Some

(01:41:46):
of the fellows, said Chapman,swore to wring his neck but he did
not give them the chance. Hehad disappeared from England and was generally believed
to be living in some foreign capital. What I would give to be even
with the swine, cried my friend, clenching and unclenching his big fist.
But we're up against no small thing. In Josiah Routh, there isn't a

(01:42:08):
crime on earth he'd stick at,and he's as clever as the old devil
his master. If that's how youfeel, I can trust you to back
me up, I said, Andthe first thing I want you to do
is to come and stay at myflat. God knows what may happen next.
And two men are better than one, I tell you frankly, I'm
nervous and I would like to haveyou with me. Chapman had no objection.

(01:42:30):
I accompanied him to his Bloomsbury lodgings, where he packed a bag,
and we returned to the down streetflat. The sight of his burly figure
and sagacious face was a relief tome in the mysterious darkness where I now
found myself walking. Thus began myhousekeeping with Chapman, one of the queerest
episodes in my life. He wasthe best fellow in the world. But

(01:42:54):
I found that I had misjudged hischaracter. To see him in the house,
she would have thought him a pieceof ran it with his Yorkshire bluntness
and hard, downright North Country sense. He had all that somewhere inside him.
But he was also as romantic asa boy. The new situation delighted
him. He was quite clear thatit was another case of the strife between

(01:43:15):
capital and labor, Tommy and Istanding for labor. Though he used to
refer to Tommy in public as agilded popinjay, and only a month before
had described me in the house asa viprous lackey of capitalism. It was
the best kind of strife in whichyou had not to meet your adversary with
long winded speeches, but might anymoment get a chance to pummel him with

(01:43:36):
your fists. He made me achewith laughter. The spying business used to
rouse him to fury. I don'tthink he was tracked as I was,
but he chose to fancy he was, and was guilty of assault and battery
on one butcher's boy, two cabbys, and a gentleman who turned out to
be a bookmaker's assistant. This sideof him got to be an infernal nuisance,

(01:43:59):
and I had many rose with him. Among other things, he chose
to suspect my man Waters of treachery, Waters, who was the son of
a gardener at home and hadn't witsenough to put up an umbrella when it
rained, you're not taking this businessrightly. He maintained, one night,
what's the good of waiting for thesedevils to down you. Let's go out
and down them. And he announcedhis intention, from which no words of

(01:44:21):
mine could dissuade him of keeping watchon mister Andrew Lumley at the Albany.
His resolution led to a complete disregardof his parliamentary duties. Deputations of constituents
waited for him in vain. Ofcourse, he never got a sight of
Lumley. All that happened was thathe was very nearly given in charge more

(01:44:42):
than once for molesting peaceable citizens inthe neighborhood of Piccadilly and Regent Street.
One night, on my way homefrom the Temple, I saw in the
bills of the evening papers the announcementof the arrest of a labor member.
It was Chapman, sure enough,at first feared that he had got himself
into serious trouble, and was muchrelieved to find him in the flat in

(01:45:04):
a state of blazing anger. Itseemed that he had found somebody whom he
thought was lumly, for he onlyknew him from my descriptions. The man
was in a shop in German Streetwith a car waiting outside, and Chapman
had, politely, as he swore, asked the chauffeur his master's name.
The chauffeur had replied abusively, uponwhich Chapman had hailed him from the driver's

(01:45:28):
seat and shaken him till his teethrattled. The owner came out and Chapman
was arrested and taken off to thenearest police court. He had been compelled
to apologize and had been fined fivepounds in costs. By the mercy of
heaven. The chauffeur's master was amoney lender of evil repute, so the
affair did Chapman no harm, butI was forced to talk to him seriously.

(01:45:51):
I knew it was no use explainingthat for him to spy on the
powerhouse was like an elephant stalking thegazelle. The only way was to appeal
to his incurable romanticism, don't yousee? I told him that you are
playing Lumley's game. He will trapyou sooner or later into some escapade which
will lend you in jail. Andwhere will I be? Then? That

(01:46:12):
is what he and his friends areout for. We've got to meet cunning
with cunning, and lie low tillwe get our chance. He allowed himself
to be convinced and handed over tome the pistol he had bought, which
had been the terror of my life. All right, he said, I'll
keep quiet, but you promised tolet me into the big scrap when it
comes off, I promised. Chapman'snotion of the Grand Finale was a Homeric

(01:46:35):
combat in which he would get hisfill of fisticuffs. He was in anxiety,
but all the same he was anenormous comfort. His imperturbable cheerfulness and
his racy talk were the tonics Iwanted. He had plenty of wisdom too.
My nurves were getting bad those days, and whereas I had rarely touched
the things before, I now foundmyself smoking cigarettes from morning till night.

(01:46:59):
I am pretty abstemious, as youknow, but I discovered to my horror
that I was drinking far too manywhiskys and sodas. Chapman knocked me off
all that and got me back toa pipe in a modest nightcap. He
did more, for he undertook toput me in training. His notion was
that we should win in the innby superior muscles. He was a square,
thick set fellow who had been agood middleweight boxer. I could box

(01:47:24):
a bit myself, but I improvedmightily under his tuition. We got some
gloves and used to hammer each otherfor half an hour every morning. Then
might have been seen the shameful spectacleof a rising barrister with a swollen lip
and a black eye, arguing incourt, and proceeding of an evening to
his country's legislature, where he wasconfronted from the opposite benches by the sight

(01:47:46):
of a leader of the people inthe same vulgar condition. In those days,
I wanted all the relief I couldget, for it was a beastly
time. I knew I was ingrave danger. So I made my will
and went through the other doleful performancesconsequent on the expectation of a speedy decease.
You see I had nothing to gripon, no clear job to tackle,

(01:48:09):
only to wait on the off chance. With an atmosphere of suspicion thickening
around me. The spying went on. There was no mistake about that,
but I soon ceased to mind it. Though I did my best to give
my watchers little satisfaction. There wasa hint of bullying about the spying.
It is disconcerting at night to havea man bump against you and look you

(01:48:30):
greedily in the face. I didnot go again to Scotland Yard, but
one night I ran across McGillivray inthe club. He had something of profound
interest to tell me. I hadasked about the phrase the powerhouse. Well,
he had come across it in theletter of a German friend, a
private letter in which the writer gavethe results of his inquiries into a curious

(01:48:53):
affair which a year before had excitedEurope. I had forgotten the details,
but it had something to do withthe slav States of Austria and an Italian
students' union, and it threatened atone time to be dangerous. Mcgilivray's correspondent
said that in some documents which wereseized he found constant allusion to a thing

(01:49:13):
called the craft house, evidently theheadquarters staff of the plot, and the
same word craft house had appeared elsewherein a sonnet of a poet anarchist who
shot himselves in the slums of Antwerp, in the last ravings of more than
one criminal, in the extraordinary testamentof Professor M of Jena, who,
at the age of thirty seven tookhis life after writing a strange mystical message

(01:49:38):
to his fellow citizens. McGillivray's correspondentconcluded by saying that, in his opinion,
if this craft house could be found, the key would be discovered to
the most dangerous secret organization in theworld. He added that he had some
reason to believe that the motive powerof the concern was English. McGillivray,

(01:49:58):
I said me for some time,and I fancy you think me a sober
and discreet person. Well, Ibelieve I am on the edge of discovering
the secret of your craft house.I want you to promise me that if
in the next week I send youan urgent message, you will act on
it. However fantastic it seems,I can't tell you more. I ask
you to take me on trust andbelieve that for anything I do, I

(01:50:23):
have tremendous reasons. He knit hisshaggy gray eyebrows and looked curiously at me.
Yes, I'll go bail for yoursanity. It's a good deal to
promise. But if you make anappeal to me, I will see that
it is met. Next day Ihad news from Felix Tuke, and the
man called Sarronov had been identified.If you are making inquiries about anybody,

(01:50:45):
it is fairly easy to find thosewho are seeking for the same person.
And the Russian police in tracking Tommyand pitt Heron had easily come on the
two gentlemen who were following the sametrial. The two had gone by Samarkand,
evidently intending to strike into the hillsby a shorter route than the main
road from Bokhara. The frontier postshad been worn and the stalkers had become

(01:51:08):
the stalked. That was one solidachievement. At any rate. I had
saved pitt Heron from the worst danger. For first I had sent him Tommy,
and now I had put the policeon guard against his enemies. I
had not the slightest doubt that enemiesthey were Charles knew too much, and
Tuke was the man appointed to reasonwith him, to bring him back if

(01:51:29):
possible, or if not. AsChapman had said, the ex union leader
was not the man to stick attrifles. It was a broiling June.
The London season was at its height, and I had never been so busy
in the courts before. But thatcrowded and garish world was little more than
a dream to me. I wentthrough my daily tasks, dined out,

(01:51:50):
went to the play, had consultations, talked to my fellows, but all
the while I had the feeling thatI was watching somebody else perform the same
function. I believe I did mywork well, and I know I was
twice complimented by the Court of Appeal, but my real interests were far away.
Always I saw two men in thehot glens of the Oxus, with

(01:52:13):
the fine dust of the loose risingin yellow clouds behind them. One of
these men had a drawn and anxiousface, and both rode hard. They
passed by the closes of apricot andcherry and the green watered gardens, and
soon the oxes ceased to flow wideamong rushes and water lilies and became a
turbid hill stream. By and bythe roadside changed, and the horses of

(01:52:38):
the travelers trod on mountain turf,crushing the irises and marigolds. In time,
I could feel the free air blowingfrom the roof of the world,
and see far ahead the snowy saddleof the pass which led to India.
Far behind the riders, I sawtwo others, and they chose a different
way, now over waterless plateau,now in rugged nullahs. They rode the

(01:53:01):
faster, and their route was theshorter. Sooner or later they must catch
up the first riders. And Iknew, though how I could not tell
that death would attend the meeting.I and only I, sitting in London,
four thousand miles away, could preventdisaster. The dream haunted me at
night, and often, walking inthe strand or sitting at a dinner table,

(01:53:25):
I have found my eyes fixed clearlyon the shining upland, with the
thin white mountains at the back ofit, and the four dots, which
were men hurrying fast on their business. One night I met Lumly. It
was at a big political dinner givenby the chief of my party in the
House of Lords, fifty or sixtyguests and a blaze of stars and decorations.

(01:53:46):
I sat near the bottom of thetable and he was near the top,
sitting between a famous general and anex viceroy of India. I asked
my right hand neighbor who he was, but he could not tell me.
The same question to my left handneighbor brought an answer. It is old
Lumly. If you never met him. He doesn't go out much, but
he gives a man's dinner now andthen, which are the best in London.

(01:54:11):
No, he's not a politician,though he favors our side, and
I expect has given a lot toour funds. I can't think why they
don't make him appear. He's enormouslyrich, and very generous, and the
most learned old fellow in Britain.My chief, my neighbor, was an
under secretary, knows him and toldme once that if he wanted any out
of the way bit of knowledge,you could get it by asking Lumly.

(01:54:33):
I expect he pulls the strings morethan anybody living, but he scarcely ever
goes out. And it's a featherin our host's cap to have got him
tonight. You never see his namein the papers either. He probably pays
the press to keep him out,like some of those millionaire fellows in America.
I watched him through dinner. Hewas the center of the talk at

(01:54:55):
his end of the table. Icould see the blue ribbon bulging out on
Lord more Cam's breast as he leanedforward to question him. He was wearing
some foreign orders, including the Legionof Honor, and I could hear,
in the pause of conversation echoes ofhis soft, rich voice. I could
see him beaming through his glasses onhis neighbors, and now and then he
would take them off and look mildlyat a speaker. I wondered why nobody

(01:55:19):
realized as I did, what wasin his light wild eyes. The dinner
I believed was excellent, and thecompany was good, but down at my
end, I could eat little,and I did not want to talk.
Here in this pleasant room, withservants moving softly about, and a mellow
light on the silver from the shadedcandles, I felt the man was buttressed

(01:55:41):
and defended beyond my reach. Akind of despairing hatred gripped me when I
looked his way, For I wasalways conscious of that other picture the Asian
desert, pitt Heron's hunted face,and the grim figure of tuk on his
trail. That and the great secretwheels of what was too inhuman and to
be called crime, moving throughout theglobe under this man's hand. There was

(01:56:04):
a party afterwards, but I didnot stay no more did lumly, and
for a second I brushed against himin the hall at the foot of the
big staircase. He smiled on meaffectionately. Have you been dining here?
I did not notice you. Youhad better things to think of, I
said, By the way, yougave me good advice some weeks ago.

(01:56:26):
It may interest you to hear thatI have taken it. I am so
glad, he said softly. Youare a very discreet young man. But
his eyes told me that he knewI lied. End of chapter five.
Recording by Expatriot in Bangor, Maine. Chapter six of the Powerhouse by John

(01:56:53):
Buchan. This LibriVox recording is inthe public domain. Recording by Expatriot in
Bangor, Maine, Chapter six,The Restaurant in Antioch Street. I was
working late at the temple next day, and it was nearly seven before I
got up to go home. Mcgillivray had telephoned me in the afternoon saying

(01:57:15):
he wanted to see me and suggestingdinner at the club, and I had
told him I should come straight therefrom my chambers, But just after six
he had rung me up again andproposed another meeting place. I've got some
very important news for you and wantto be quiet. There's a little place
where I sometimes dine, Rappaccini's andAntioch Street. I meet you there at

(01:57:35):
half past seven. I agreed,and sent a message to Chapman at the
flat, telling him I would beout to dinner. It was a Wednesday
night, so the house rose early. He asked me where I was dining,
and I told him, but Idid not mention with whom. His
voice sounded very cross, for hehated a lonely meal. It was a

(01:57:56):
hot, still night, and Ihad had a heavy day in so heavy
that my private anxieties had almost slippedfrom my mind. I walked along the
embankment and up Regent Street towards Oxford'sCircus. Antioch Street, as I had
learned from the directory, was inthe area between Langham Place and Tottenham Court
Road. I wondered vaguely why McGillivrayshould have chosen such an out of the

(01:58:19):
way spot, but I knew himfor a man of many whims. The
street, when I found it,turned out to be a respectable little place,
boarding houses and architect's offices, witha few antiquity shops and a picture
cleaners. The restaurant took some finding, for it was one of those discreet
establishments common enough in France, whereno edibles are displayed in the British fashion,

(01:58:44):
and muslin half curtains decked the windows. Only the door, mat lettered
with the proprietor's name, remained toguide the hungry. I gave a waiter
my hat and stick, and wasushered into a garish dining room apparently full
of people. A single violinist wasdiscoursing music from beside the grill. The
occupants were not quite the kind oneexpects to find in an eating house in

(01:59:08):
a side street. The men wereall in evening dress with white waistcoats,
and the women looked either demi mondenzor those who followed their taste in clothes.
Various eyes looked curiously at me asI entered. I guessed that the
restaurant had by one of those oddfreaks of Londoners become for a moment the
fashion. The proprietor met me halfway up the room. He might call

(01:59:31):
himself Rappaccini, but he was obviouslya German. Mister Gilvray, He nodded,
he has engaged a private room.Will you follow, sir? A
narrow stairway broke into the wall onthe left side of the dining room.
I followed the manager up it andalong as short corridor to a door which
filled its end. He ushered meinto a brightly lit little room, where

(01:59:55):
a table was laid for two.Mister Gilvry, comes off in here,
said the manager. If you'll belate, sometimes everything is ready, sir.
I hope you'll be pleased. Itlooked inviting enough, but the air
smelt stuffy. Then I saw that, though the night was warm, the
window was shut and the curtains drawn. I pulled back the curtains, and

(02:00:16):
to my surprise saw that the shutterswere closed. You must open these,
I said, or will stifle Themanager glanced at the window. I'll send
a vator, he said, anddeparted. The door seemed to shut with
an odd click. I flung myselfdown in one of the arm chairs,
for I was feeling pretty tired.The little table beckoned alluringly, for I

(02:00:39):
was also hungry. I remember therewas a mass of pink roses on it.
A bottle of champagne with a corkloose stood in a wine cooler on
the sideboard, and there was anunopened bottle beside it. It seemed to
me that Micgilivray, when he dinedhere, did himself rather well. The
promised waiter did not arrive, andthe stuffyess was making me very thirsty.

(02:01:01):
I looked for a bell, butcould not see one. My watch told
me it was now a quarter toeight, but there was no sign in
mc gillivray. I poured myself outa glass of champagne from the open bottle
and was just about to drink itwhen my eye caught something in a corner
of the room. It was oneof those little mid Victorian corner tables I

(02:01:21):
believe they call them what nots,which you will find in any boarding house,
littered up with photographs and coral andpresents from Brighton. On this one
stood a photograph in a shabby frame, and I thought I recognized it.
I crossed the room and picked itup. It showed a man of thirty
with short side whiskers, an illfitting jaw, and a drooping mustache.

(02:01:45):
The duplicate of it was in mcgilivrey'scabinet. It was mister Routh, the
ex union leader. There was nothingvery remarkable about that, after all,
but it gave me a nasty shock. The room, now seen the Sinister
Place as well, is intolerably close. There was still no sign of the
waiter to open the window, soI thought I would wait for mcguilivrey downstairs.

(02:02:08):
But the door would not open,the handle would not turn. It
did not seem to be locked,but rather to have shut with some kind
of patent spring. I noticed thatthe whole thing was a powerful piece of
oak with a heavy framework, veryunlike the usual flimsy restaurant doors. My
first instinct was to make a deuceof a row and attract the attention of

(02:02:29):
the diners below. I own Iwas beginning to feel badly frightened. Clearly
I had gotten too some sort oftrap. Mcguilivray's invitation might have been a
hoax, for it is not difficultto counterfeit a man's voice on the telephone.
With an effort, I forced myselfinto calmness. It was preposterous to
think that anything could happen to mein a room not thirty feet from where

(02:02:51):
a score or two of ordinary citizenswere dining. I had only to raise
my voice to bring inquirers. Yes, but above all things I did not
want to row. It would neverdo for a rising lawyer and a member
of Parliament to be found shouting forhelp in an upper chamber of a Bloomsbury
restaurant. The worst deduction would bedrawn from the open bottle of champagne.

(02:03:15):
Besides, it might be all right. After all, the door might have
got stuck. Mc Guilivray at thatvery moment might be on his way up.
So I sat down and waited.Then I remembered my thirst and stretched
out my hand to the glass ofchampagne. But at that instant I looked
towards the window and set down thewine untasted. It was a very odd

(02:03:36):
window. The lower end was aboutflushed with the floor, and the hinges
of the shutters seemed to be onlyon one side. As I stared,
I began to wonder whether it wasa window at all. Next moment my
doubts were sold. The window swungopen like a door, and in the
dark cavity stood a man. Strangelyenough, I knew him. The figure

(02:04:00):
was not one that is readily forgotten. Good evening, mister Docker, I
said, will you have a glassof champagne. A year before, on
the Southeastern Circuit, I had appearedfor the defense in a burglary case.
Criminal law was not my province,but now and then I took a case
to keep my hand in, forit is the best training in the world
for the handling of witnesses. Thiscase had been peculiar. A certain Bill

(02:04:26):
Docker was the accused, a gentlemanwho bore a bad reputation in the eyes
of the police. The evidence againsthim was strong, but it was more
or less tainted, being chiefly thatof two former accomplices, a proof that
there is small truth in the proverbialhonor among thieves. It was an ugly
business, and my sympathies were withthe accused, for though he may very

(02:04:47):
well have been guilty, yet hehad been the victim of a shabby trick.
Anyhow, I put my back intothe case, and after a hard
struggle got a verdict of not guilty. Mister Docker had been kind enough to
express his appreciation of my efforts,and to ask in a hoarse whisper,
how I had squared the old bird, meaning the judge he did not understand

(02:05:10):
the subtleties of the English law ofevidence. He shambled into the room,
a huge, hulking figure of aman, with a thickness of chest,
which, under happier circumstances might havemade him a terror in the prize ring.
His features wore a heavy scowl whichslowly cleared to a flicker of recognition.
By God, it's the lawyer chap, he muttered. I pointed to

(02:05:32):
the glass of Champagne. I don'tmind if I do. He said,
here's health. He swallowed the wineat a gulp and wiped his mouth on
his sleeve. Have a drop yourself, governor, he added, a glass
of bubbly. Will cheer you upwell, mister Docker, I said,
I hope I see you fit.I was getting wonderfully collected now that the

(02:05:53):
suspense was over. Pretty fair,sir, pretty fair, able to do
my day's work like an honest man. And what brings you here? A
little job I'm on. Some friendsof mine wants you out of the road
for a bit, and they've sentme to fetch you. It's a bit
of luck for you that you've strucka pal. We needn't have no unpleasantness,
seeing we're both what you might callmen of the world. I appreciate

(02:06:15):
the compliment, I said, Butwhere do you propose to take me?
Dunno, it's some lay near thedocks. I've got a motor car waitin
at the back of the house.But supposing I don't want to go my
orders admit no excuse, he saidsolemnly. You're a sensible chap and can
see that in a scrap I coulddown you easy, very likely, I

(02:06:36):
said, But man, you mustbe mad to talk like that. Downstairs
there is a dining room full ofpeople. I have only to lift my
voice to bring the police. You'rea kid, he said scornfully. Them
geezers downstairs are all in the job. That was a flat catching rig to
get you up here, so asyou wouldn't suspect nothing. If you was

(02:06:56):
to go down now, which youain't going to be allowed to do,
you wouldn't find a blame soul inthe place. I must say, you're
a bit softer than I hoped,after the handsome way you talked over the
old juggins with a wig at Maidstone, mister Docker took the bottle from the
wine cooler and filled himself another glass. It sounded horribly convincing. If I
was to be kidnapped and smuggled away, Lumley would have scored half a success,

(02:07:21):
not the whole. For as Iswiftly reflected, I had put Felix
on the track of tuc and therewas every chance that Tommy and pitt Heron
would be saved. But for myselfit looked pretty black. The more my
scheme succeeded, the more likely thepowerhouse would be to wreak its vengeance on
me. Once I was spirited fromthe open air world into his dark labyrinths,

(02:07:43):
I made a great effort to keepmy voice even and calm. Mister
Docker, I said, I oncedid you a good turn, but for
me, you might be doing timenow instead of drinking champagne like a gentleman.
Your pals played you a pretty lowtrick, and that was why I
stuck out for you. I didn'tthink you were the kind of man to
forget a friend. No more,I am, said he. The man

(02:08:05):
who says Bill Docker would go backon a pal is a liar. Well,
here's your chance to pay your debts. The men who employ you are
my deadly enemies and want to dome in. I'm not a match for
you. You're a stronger fellow andcan drag me off and hand me over
to them. But if you do, I'm done with. Make no mistake
about that. I put it toyou as a decent fellow. Are you

(02:08:26):
going to go back on the manwho has been a good friend to you?
He shifted from one foot to another, with his eyes on the ceiling.
He was obviously in difficulties. Thenhe tried another glass of Champagne.
I dursn't, Governor, I dursn'tlet you go. Then I work for
would cut my throat as soon aslook at me. Besides, it ain't
no good if I was to gooff and leave you, There'd be plenty

(02:08:48):
more in this house as we'd dothe job. You're up against it,
Governor. But take a sensible viewand come with me. They don't mean
you no real harm. I'll takemy Bible oath on it, only to
keep you qu light for a bit, but you've run across one of their
games. They won't do, youknow her if you speak em fair,
be a sport and take it smilinglike you're afraid of them. I said,

(02:09:09):
yes, I'm afraid, black afraid. So would you be if you
knew the gents. I'd rather takeon the whole rat Lane crowd. You
know them as I mean, ona Saturday night when they're out for business,
than go back to my gents andsay as how I had shirked the
job. He shivered. Good lord, they'd freeze the heart out of a
bull pup. You're afraid, Isaid, slowly. So you're going to

(02:09:31):
give me up to the men you'reafraid of, to do as they like
with me. I never expected itof you, Bill, I thought you
were the kind of lad who wouldsend any gang to the devil before you'd
go back on a pal. Don'tsay that, he said, almost plaintively.
You don't half know the hole I'min. His eyes seemed to be
wandering, and he yawned deeply.Just then a great noise began below.

(02:09:54):
I heard a voice speaking, aloud peremptory voice. Then my name was
schey, life'n life'n are you there? There could be no mistaking that broad
Yorkshire tongue. By some miracle,Chapman had followed me and was raising cane
downstairs. My heart leaped with asudden revelation. I'm here, I yelled

(02:10:15):
up stairs, Come up and letme out. Then I turned with a
smile of triumph to Bill. Myfriends have come. I said, you're
too late for the job. Getback and tell your master's that. He
was swaying on his feet, andhe suddenly lurched towards me. You come
along, By god, you thinkyou've done me. I'll let you see.
His voice was growing thick, andhe stopped short. What the hell's

(02:10:37):
wrong with me, he gasped,and going all queer. I he was
like a man far gone in liquor, But three glasses of champagne would never
have touched a head like Bill's.I saw what was up with him.
He was not drunk, but drugged. They've doped the wine, I cried.
They put it there for me todrink it and go to sleep.
There is always something which is thelast straw to any man. You may

(02:11:01):
insult and outrage him, and hewill bear it patiently, but touch the
quicken his temper and he will turn. Apparently, for Bill, drugging was
the unforgivable sin. His eye lostfor a moment its confusion. He squared
his shoulders and roared like a bull. Doped by God. He cried,
who done it? The men whoshut me in this room? Burst that

(02:11:22):
door, and you will find them. He turned a blazing face on the
locked door and hurled his huge weighton it. It cracked and bent,
but the lock and hinges held.I could see that sleep was overwhelming him,
and that his limbs were stiffening,but his anger was still strong enough
for another effort. Again, hedrew himself together like a big cat and

(02:11:45):
flung himself on the woodwork. Thehinges tore from the jambs, and the
whole outfit fell forward into the passagein a cloud of splinters and dust and
broken plaster. It was mister Docker'sfinal effort. He lay on the top
of the wreckage he had made,like Sampson among the ruins of Gaza,
a senseless and slumbering hulk. Ipicked up the unopened bottle of champagne.

(02:12:09):
It was the only weapon available,and stepped over his body. I was
beginning to enjoy myself amazingly, asI expected. There was a man in
the corridor, a little fellow inwaiters clothes with a twee jacket instead of
a dress coat. If he hada pistol, I knew I was done,
But I gambled upon the disinclination ofthe management for the sound of shooting.

(02:12:30):
He had a knife, but henever had a chance to use it.
My champagne bottle descended on his head, and he dropped like a log.
There were men coming upstairs, notChapman, for I still heard his
horse shouts in the dining room.If they once got up, they could
force me back through that hideous roomby the door through which Docer had come,
and in five minutes I should bein their motor car. There was

(02:12:52):
only one thing to do. Ijumped from the stairhead right down among them.
I think there were three, andmy descent toppled them over. We
rolled in a wild, whirling massand cascaded into the dining room, where
my head bumped violently on the parquet. I expected a bit of a grapple,
but none came. My wits werepretty wooly, but I managed to

(02:13:13):
scramble to my feet. The heelsof my enemies were disappearing up the staircase.
Chapman was pawing my ribs to discoverif there were any bones broken.
There was not another soul in theroom except two policemen who were pushing their
way in from the street. Chapmanwas flushed and breathing heavily. His coat
had a big split down the seamsat the shoulder, but his face was

(02:13:35):
happy as a child's. I caughthis arm and spoke in his ear.
We've got to get out of thisat once. How can we square these
policemen? There must be no inquiryand nothing in the papers. Do you
hear? It's all right? SaidChapman. These bobbies are friends of mine,
two good lads from Wensleydale on myroad here. I told them to
give me a bit of law andfollow me, for I thought they might

(02:13:56):
be wanted. They didn't come toosoon to spoil sport, for I'd been
knocking ferners about for ten minutes.You seem to have been putting up a
tidy scrap yourself. Let's get homefirst, I said, for I was
beginning to think of the bigger thing. I wrote a chit for mc gillivray,
which I asked one of the constablesto take the Scotland yard. It

(02:14:18):
was to beg that nothing should bedone yet in the business of the restaurant,
and above all, that nothing shouldget into the papers. Then I
asked the other to see us home. It was a queer request for two
able bodied men to make on asummer evening in the busiest part of London.
But I was taking no chances.The Powerhouse had declared war on me,
and I knew it would be warwithout quarter. I was enough fever

(02:14:41):
to get out of that place.My momentary lust of battle had gone,
and every stone of that building seemedto me a threat. Chapman would have
liked to spend a happy hour rummagingthrough the house, but the gravity of
my face persuaded him. The truthis I was bewildered. I could not
understand the reason of this sudden attack. Lumley's spies must long ago have told

(02:15:03):
them enough to connect me with theBokhara business. My visits to the embassy
alone were sufficient proof. But nowhe must have found out something new,
something which startled him, or elsethere had been wild doings in Turkestan.
I won't forget that walk home ina hurry. It was a fine July
twilight. The streets were full ofthe usual crowd, shop girls in thin

(02:15:26):
frocks, promenading clerks, in allthe flotsam of a London summer. You
would have said it was the safestplace on earth. But I was glad
we had the policeman with us,who, at the end of one beat,
passed us on to his colleague.And I was glad of Chapman,
for I am morally certain I wouldnever have got home alone. The queer
thing is that there was no signof trouble till we got into Oxford Street.

(02:15:50):
Then I became aware that there werepeople on those pavements who knew all
about me. I first observed itat the mouth of one of those little
dark side alleys which up into mewsin small dingy courts. I found myself
being skillfully edged away from Chapman intothe shadow. But I noticed it in
time, and butted my way backto the pavement. I couldn't make out

(02:16:11):
who the people were who hustled me. They seemed nondescripts of all sorts,
but I fancied there were women amongthem. This happened twice and I got
wary, but I was nearly caught. Before we reached Oxford's Circus. There
was a front of a big shoprebuilding and the usual wooden barricade with a
gate. Just as we passed it, there was a special throng on the

(02:16:33):
pavement, and I, being nextthe wall, got pushed against the gate.
Suddenly it gave and I was pressedinward. I was right inside before
I realized my danger, and thegate was closing. There must have been
people there, but I could seenothing in the gloom. It was no
time for false pride. I yelledto Chapman, and the next second his

(02:16:54):
burly shoulder was in the gap.The hustlers vanished, and I seemed to
hear a polite voice begging my pardon. After that, Chapman and I linked
arms and struck across Mayfair. ButI did not feel safe till I was
in the flat with the door bolted. We had a long drink and I
stretched myself in an arm chair,for I was as tired as if I

(02:17:15):
had come out of a big gameof rugby footbowl. I owe you a
good deal old man, I said, I think I'll join the labor party.
You can tell your fellows to sendme their whips. What possessed you
to come to look for me?The explanation was simple. I had mentioned
the restaurant in my telephone message andthe name had awakened a recollection in Chapman's
mind. He could not fix itat first, but by and by he

(02:17:39):
remembered that the place had cropped upin the rout case. Ralph's London headquarters
had been at the restaurant in AntiochStreet. As soon as he remembered this,
he got into a taxi and descendedat the corner of the street,
whereby sheer luck, he fell inwith his Wensleydale friends. He said he
had marched into the restaurant and foundit empty but for an ill favored manager

(02:18:01):
who denied all knowledge of me.Then, fortunately he chose to make certain
by shouting my name and heard myanswer. After that he knocked the manager
down, and was presently assaulted byseveral men whom he described as foreign muck.
They had knives of which he madevery little for. He seems to
have swung a table as a batteringram and left sore limbs behind him.

(02:18:24):
He was on the top of hisform. I haven't enjoyed anything so much
since I was a lad at school, he informed me. I was beginning
to think your power house was awash out. But Lord has been busy
enough to night. This is whatI call life. My spirits could not
keep pace with his. The truthis that I was miserably puzzled, not
afraid so much as mystified. Icouldn't make out this sudden dead set at

(02:18:48):
me. Either they knew more thanI bargained for, or I knew far
too little. It's all very well, I said, but I don't see
how this is going to end.We can't keep up the pace long At
this rate. It will be onlya matter of hours till they get me.
We pretty well barricaded ourselves in theflat, and at his earnest request,

(02:19:09):
I restored to Chapman his revolver.Then I got the clue I had
been longing for. It was abouteleven o'clock while we were sitting smoking when
the telephone bell rang. It wasFelix who spoke, I have news for
you, he said. The huntershad met the hunted, and one of
the hunters is dead. The otheris a prisoner in our hands. He
has confessed. It had been blackmurder and intent. The Frontier police had

(02:19:33):
shadowed the two men into the cupof a Glen, where they met Tommy
and pitt Heron. The four hadspoken together for a little and then two
had fired deliberately at Charles and hadgrazed his ear, whereupon Tommy had charged
him and knocked the pistol from hishand. The assailant had fled, but
a long shot from the police onthe hillside had toppled him over. Tommy

(02:19:56):
had felled Sarronov with his fists,and the man had abjectly so surrendered.
He had confessed, Felix said,But what the confession was he did not
know. End of chapter six.Recording by Expatria in Bangor, Maine.

(02:20:18):
Chapter seven of The Powerhouse by JohnBuchan. This Librivat's recording is in the
public domain. Recording by Expatria inBangor, Maine, Chapter seven. I
find sanctuary. My nervousness and indecisiondropped from me at the news I had
won the first round and I wouldwin the last. For a suddenly became

(02:20:41):
clear to me that I had nowevidence which would blast Lumly. I believed
that it would not be hard toprove his identity with Pavia in his receipt
of the telegram from Saranov. Tukewas his creature, and Tuke's murderous mission
was his doing. No doubt,I knew little and could prove nothing about
the big thing, the powerhouse.But conspiracy to murder is not the lightest

(02:21:03):
of criminal charges. I was beginningto see my way to checkmating my friend,
at least so far as pitt Heronwas concerned. Provided and it was
a pretty big proviso that he gaveme the chance to use my knowledge that
I foresaw was going to be thedifficulty. What I knew now Lumley had
known hours before. The reason ofthe affair at Antioch Street was now only

(02:21:28):
too clear. If he believed thatI had damning evidence against him, and
there was no doubt he suspected it, then he would do his best to
stop my mouth. I must getmy statement lodged in the proper quarter at
the earliest possible moment. The nexttwenty four hours I feared were going to
be too sensational for comfort. Andyet I cannot say that I was afraid

(02:21:50):
I was too full of pride tobe in a funk. I had lost
my awe of Lumley through scoring apoint against him. Had I known more,
I should have been less at myease. It was this confidence which
prevented me doing the obvious safe thing, ringing up mc gillivray, telling him
the gist of my story, andgetting him to put me under police protection.

(02:22:11):
I thought I was clever enough tosee the thing through myself, and
it must have been the same overconfidence which prevented Lumely getting at me that
night. An organization like his couldeasily have got into the flat and done
for us both. I suppose theexplanation is that he did not yet know
how much I knew, and wasnot yet ready to take the last steps

(02:22:33):
in silencing me. I sat uptill the small hours, marshaling my evidence
in a formal statement and making twocopies of it. One was destined for
mc gillivray and the other for Felix, for I was taking no risks.
I went to bed and slept peacefully, and was awakened as usual by waters.

(02:22:54):
My man slept out and used toturn up in the morning about seven
It was all so normal and homelythat I could have believed my adventures of
the night before a dream. Inthe summer sunlight, the ways of darkness
seemed very distant. I dressed inexcellent spirits and made a hearty breakfast.
Then I gave the docile Chapman hisinstructions. He must take the document to

(02:23:16):
Scotland Yard, asked to see mcgillivray and put it into his hands.
Then he must ring me up atonce at down Street and tell me that
he had done this. I hadalready telephoned to my clerk that I would
not be at the temple that day. It seems a simple thing to travel
less than a mile in the mostfrequented part of London in broad daylight and

(02:23:37):
perform an easy act like carrying aletter. But I knew that Lumley's spies
would be active and would connect Chapmansufficiently with me to think him worth following.
In that case there might be anattempt at violence. I thought it
my duty to tell him this,but he laughed me to scorn. He
proposed to walk, and he beggedto be shown the man who would meddle

(02:23:58):
with him Upman. After last nightwas prepared to take on all comers.
He put my letter to mc gillivrayin his inner pocket, buttoned his coat,
crushed down, his felt hat onhis head, and defiantly set forth.
I expected a message from him inhalf an hour, for he was
a rapid walker. But the halfhour passed, then the three quarters,

(02:24:20):
and nothing happened. At eleven Irang up Scotland Yard, but they had
no news of him. Then Ibecame miserably anxious, for it was clear
that some disaster had overtaken my messenger. My first impulse was to set out
myself to look for him, buta moment's reflection convinced me that that would
be playing into the enemy's hands.For an hour I wrestled with my impatience,

(02:24:45):
and then a few minutes after twelveI was wrung up by Saint Thomas's
Hospital. A young doctor spoke andsaid that mister Chapman had asked him to
tell me what had happened. Hehad been run down by a motor car
at the corner of Whitehall. Nothingserious, only a bad shake in some
scalp wounds. In a day orso he would be able to leave.
Then he added, what drove theblood from my heart. Mister Chapman personally

(02:25:09):
wished me to tell you. Hesaid that the letter has gone. I
stammered some reply, asking his meaning. He said, he thinks I was
told that while he was being assistedto his feet, his pocket was picked
and a letter taken. He said, you would know what he meant.
I knew only too well what hemeant. Lumly had got my statement and

(02:25:30):
realized precisely how much I knew andwhat was the weight of evidence against him
before he had only suspected. Nowhe knew. He must know too that
there would be a copy somewhere whichI would try to deliver. It was
going to be harder than I hadfancied to get my news to the proper
ears, and I had to anticipatethe extreme of violence on the part of
my opponents. The thought of theperil restored my coolness. I had locked

(02:25:56):
the outer door of my flat andtelephoned to the garage where I I kept
my car, bidding Stag call forme at two o'clock. Precisely then,
I lit a pipe and strove tobanish the whole business from my thoughts.
Per fussing would do me no good. Presently, it occurred to me to
ring up Felix and give him somenotion of the position. But I found
that my telephone was now broken andconnection was impossible. The spoken as well

(02:26:22):
as the written word, was tobe denied me. That had happened in
the last half hour, and Ididn't believe it was by accident. Also,
my man Waters, whom I hadsent out on an errand after breakfast,
had never returned. The state ofsiege had begun. It was a
blazing hot midsummer day. The watercarts were sprinkling Piccadilly, and looking from

(02:26:43):
my window I could see leisurely andelegant gentlemen taking their morning stroll. A
florists cart full of roses stood belowme in the street. The summer smell
of town, a mixture of tarflowers, dust and pechuli, rose in
gusts through the air. It wasthe homely London I knew so well,

(02:27:03):
and I was somehow in exile fromit. I was being shepherded into a
dismal isolation which, unless I wonhelp, might mean death. I was
cool enough now, but I willnot deny that I was miserably anxious.
I cursed my false confidence the nightbefore. By now I might have had
mc gillivray and his men by myside. As it was, I wondered

(02:27:26):
if I should ever see them.I changed into a flannel suit, lunched
off sandwiches in a whiskey and soda, and at two o'clock looked for Stag
in my car. He was fiveminutes late, a thing which had never
happened before. But I never welcomedanything so gladly as the sight of that
car. I had hardly dared tohope that it would reach me. My

(02:27:46):
goal was the Embassy in Belgrave Square, but I was convinced that if I
approached it directly, I should sharethe fate of Chapman. Worse for from
me, they would not merely snatchthe letter. What I had once read
written, I could write again,And if they wished to ensure my silence,
it must be by more drastic methods. I proposed to baffle my pursuers

(02:28:09):
by taking a wide circuit round thewestern suburbs of London, returning to the
Embassy. When I thought the coastclear. It was a tremendous relief to
go down the stairs and emerge intothe hot daylight. I gave Stag his
instructions and lay back in the closedcar with a curious, fluttering sense of
anticipation. I had begun the lastround in the wild game. There was

(02:28:31):
a man at the corner of downStreet who seemed to peer curiously at the
car. He was doubtless one ofmy watchers. We went up Park Lane
into the Edgeware Road, my instructionsto Stag being to make a circuit by
Harrow and Brentford. Now that Iwas ensconced in my car, I felt
a trifle safer, and my tensenerves relaxed. I grew drowsy and allowed

(02:28:54):
myself to sink into a half doze. The stolid back of Stag filled my
gaze as it had filled it afortnight ago on the Western Road, and
I admired lazily the brick red ofhis neck. He had been in the
guards, and a bower bullet atModern River had left a long scar at
the nape of his neck, whichgave to his hair the appearance of being
badly cut. He had told methe story on Xmore. Suddenly I rubbed

(02:29:20):
my eyes. There was no scarthere. The hair of the chauffeur grew
regularly down to his coat collar.The resemblance had been perfect. The voice
was Stag's, but clearly it wasnot Stagg who now drove my car.
I pulled the blind down over thefront window, as if to shelter myself
from the sun. Looking out,I saw that we were some distance up

(02:29:41):
the Edgeware Road, nearing the pointwhere the Marlabon Road joins it. Now
or never was my chance, forat the corner there is always a block
in the traffic. The car sloweddown in obedience to a policeman's uplifted hand,
and very gently I opened the dooron the left side. Since the
car was new, it opened softly, and in two seconds I had stepped

(02:30:03):
out, shut it again, andmade a dive between a butcher's cart and
a motor bus for the sidewalk.I gave one glance back and saw the
unconscious chauffeur still rigid at the wheel. I dodged unobtrusively through the crowd on
the pavement with my hand on mybreast pocket, to see that my paper
was still there. There was alittle picture shop near by to which I

(02:30:24):
used to go occasionally, owned bya man who was an adept at cleaning
and restoring. I had sent himcustomers, and he was likely to prove
a friend. So I dived intohis doorway, which made a cool pit
of shade after the glaring street,and found him spectacles on nose, busy
examining some dusty prints. He greetedme cordially and followed me into the back

(02:30:46):
shop. Mister Levison, I said, have you a back door? He
looked at me in some surprise.Why yes, there is the door into
the lane which runs from Edgeley Streetinto Connaught Mews. Will you let me
use it? There is a friendoutside whom I wished to avoid. Such
things happen, you know, hesmiled comprehendingly. Certainly, sir, come

(02:31:09):
this way, and he led methrough a dark passage hung with dingy old
masters, to a little yard filledwith a debris of picture frames. There
he unlocked a door in the wall, and I found myself in a narrow
alley. As I emerged, Iheard the bell of the shop door ring.
If any one inquires, You havenot seen me here, remember,
I said, and mister Levison nodded. He was an artist in his small

(02:31:33):
way, and like the scent ofa mystery. I ran down the lane
and by various cross streets made myway into Bayswater. I believed that I
had thrown my trackers for the momentoff the scent, but I had got
to get to the embassy, andthat neighborhood was sure to be closely watched.
I came out on the Bayswater Roadpretty far west and resolved to strike
southeast across the park. My reasonwas that the neighborhood of Hyde Park Corner

(02:31:58):
was at that time of day certainto be pretty well crowded, and I
felt more security in a throng thanin the empty streets of Kensington. Now
that I come to think of it, it was a rash thing to do,
for since Lumly knew the full extentof my knowledge, he was likely
to deal more violently with me thanwith Chapman, and the seclusion of the
park offered him too good a chance. I crossed the riding track and struck

(02:32:22):
over the open space where the Sundaydemonstrations are held. There was nothing there
but nurses and perambulators, children atplay and dogs being exercised. Presently,
I reached Grosvenor Gate, where onthe little green chairs. Well dressed people
were taking the air. I recognizedseveral acquaintances and stopped for a moment to

(02:32:43):
talk to one of them. ThenI emerged in Park Lane and walked down
it to Hamilton Place. So farI thought I had not been followed,
but now once more I had theindefinable but unerring sensation of being watched.
I caught a man looking eagerly atme from the other side of the street,
and it seemed to me that hemade a sign to some one farther
off. It was now less thana quarter of a mile between me and

(02:33:07):
Belgraft Square, but I saw thatit would be a hard course to cover.
Once in Piccadilly, there could beno doubt about my watchers. Lumley
was doing the thing in style.This time. Last night it had only
been a trial trip, but nowthe whole energies of the powerhouse were on
the job. The place was filledwith the usual mid season crowd, and

(02:33:28):
I had to take off my hatseveral times. Up in the bow window
of the Bachelor's Club, a youngfriend of mine was writing a letter and
sipping a long drink with an airof profound boredom. I would have given
much for his aunui for my lifeat the moment was painfully exciting. I
was alone in that great crowd,isolated and proscribed, and there was no

(02:33:50):
help save in my own wits.If I spoke to a policeman, he
would think me drunk or mad.And yet I was on the edge of
being made the victim of a farsubtler crime than fell within the purview of
the Metropolitan Force. Now I sawhow thin is the protection of civilization.
An accident and a bogus ambulance,a false charge and a bogus arrest.

(02:34:13):
There were a dozen ways of spiritingme out of this gay, bustling world.
I foresaw that if I delayed,my nerve would break, so I
boldly set off across the road.I jolly nearly shared the fate of Chapman.
A car which seemed about to drawup at a club door, suddenly
swerved across the street, and Ihad to dash to an island to escape

(02:34:35):
it. It was no occasion tohesitate, so, dodging a bus and
missing a motor bicycle by a hair'sbreath, I rushed across the remaining distance
and reached the railings of the greenPark. Here there were fewer people,
and several queer things began to happen. A little group of workmen with their
tools were standing by the curb,and they suddenly moved towards me. A

(02:34:56):
pavement artist who looked like a cripple, scrambled to his feet and moved in
the same direction. There was apoliceman at the corner, and I saw
a well dressed man go up tohim, say something and nod in my
direction, and the policeman, toobegan to move towards me. I did
not await them. I took tomy heels and ran for my life down

(02:35:16):
Grosvenor Place. Long ago, atEton I had won the school mile,
and at Oxford I was a secondstring for the quarter. But never at
Eton or at Oxford did I runas I ran then. It was blisteringly
hot, but I did not feelit, for my hands were clammy and
my heart felt like a cold stone. I do not know how the pursuit

(02:35:37):
got on, for I did notthink about it. I did not reflect
what kind of spectacle I must affordrunning like a thief in a London thoroughfare
on a June afternoon. I onlyknew that my enemies were around and behind
me, and that in front,a few hundred yards away lay safety.
But even as I ran, Ihad the sense to think out my movements

(02:35:58):
and to I realized that the frontdoor of the Embassy was impossible. For
one thing, it would be watched, and for another, before the solemn
footman opened it, my pursuers wouldbe upon me. My only hope was
the back door. I twisted intothe mews behind the north side of the
square, and as I turned,I saw two men run up from the

(02:36:18):
square as if to cut me off. A whistle was blown and more men
appeared, one entering from the farend of the mews, one darting from
a public house door, and onesliding down a ladder from a stable loft.
This last was nearest me and triedto trip me, but I rejoiced
to say that a left hand oron the chin sent him sprawling on the
cobbles. I remembered that the Embassywas the fifth house from the end,

(02:36:41):
and feverishly I tried to count thehouses by their backs. It is not
so easy as it sounds. Forthe modern London householder studs his back premises
with excrescences which seemed to melt intohis neighbors. In the end, I
had to make a guess at thedoor, which, to my joy,
was unlocked. I rushed in andbanged it behind me. I found myself

(02:37:03):
in a stone passage with on oneside a door opening on a garage.
There was a wooden staircase leading toan upper floor, and a glass door
in front, which opened into alarge, disused room full of boxes.
Beyond were two doors, one ofwhich was locked. The other abutted on
a steep iron stairway, which obviouslyled to the lower regions of the house.

(02:37:26):
I ran down the stairs was nomore than a ladder, crossed a
small courtyard, traversed a passage,and burst into the kitchen, where I
confronted an astonished, white capped chefin the act of lifting a pot from
the fire. His face was redand wrathful, and I thought that he
was going to fling the pot atmy head. I had disturbed him in

(02:37:46):
some delicate operation, and his artist'spride was outraged. Monsieur, I stammered
in French, I seek your pardonfor my intrusion. There were circumstances which
compelled me to enter this house bythe back premises. I am an acquaintance
of his Excellency, your patron,and an old friend of Monsieur Felix.
I beg you, of your kindnessto direct me to Monsieur Felix's room,

(02:38:07):
or to bid some one take methere. My abject apologies mollified him.
It is a grave offense, Monsieur, he said, an unparalleled offense to
enter my kitchen at this hour.I fear you have irremediably spoiled the new
castlele dish that I was endeavoring tocompose. I was ready to go on
my knees to the offended artist.It grieved me, indeed to have interfered

(02:38:31):
with so rare an art which Ihave often admired at his Excellency's table.
But there is danger behind me,and an urgent mission in front. Monsieur
will forgive me. Necessity will sometimesoverrule the finest sensibility. He bowed to
me, and I bowed to him, and my pardon was assured. Suddenly
a door opened, another than thatby which I had entered, and a

(02:38:52):
man appeared, whom I took tobe a footman. He was struggling into
his livery coat, but at thesight of me he dropped that. I
thought I recognized the face as thatof the man who had emerged from the
public house and tried to cut meoff. Here, mister Alphonse, he
cried, help me to collar thisman. The police are after him.

(02:39:13):
You forget my friend. I saidthat an embassy is privileged ground which the
police can't enter. I desire tobe taken before his excellency. So that's
your game, he shouted. Buttwo can play at that. Here,
give me a hand, moussu andwe'll have him in the street in a
jiffy. There's two hundred of thebest in our pockets if we hands them
over to them as wants them.The cook looked puzzled and a little frightened.

(02:39:35):
Will you will allow them to outrageyour kitchen? An embassy kitchen too
without your consent? What have youdone, he asked in French, Only
what your patron would approve. Ireplied in the same tongue, The assassins
have a grudge against me. Hestill hesitated while the young footman advanced on
me. He was fingering something inhis trousers pocket which I did not like.

(02:40:00):
Now was the time when, asthey say in America, I should
have got busy with my gun,but alas I had no gun, I
feared supports for the enemy. Forthe footman, at the first sight of
me, had run back the wayhe had come, and I had heard
a low whistle. What might havehappened I do not know. Had not
the God appeared from the machine inthe person of Hewans, the butler.

(02:40:20):
Hewins, I said, you knowme, I have often dined here,
and you know that I am afriend of Monsieur Felix. I am on
my way to see him on anurgent matter, and for various reasons I
had to enter by Monsieur Alphonse's kitchen. Will you take me at once to
Monsieur Felix. Hewins bowed, andon his imperturbable face there appeared no sign
of surprise. This way, sir, was all he said. As I

(02:40:43):
followed him, I saw the footmanplucking nervously at the something in his trousers
pocket. Lumley's agents apparently had notalways the courage to follow his instructions to
the letter, for I made nodoubt that the order had been to take
me alive or dead. Found Felixalone and flung myself into an arm chair.
My dear Chap, I said,take my advice and advise his excellency

(02:41:07):
to sack the red haired footman.From that moment I date that sense of
mastery over a situation which drives outfear. I had been living for weeks
under a dark pole, and suddenlythe skies had lightened. I had found
sanctuary. Whatever happened to me,now, the worst was past, for
I had done my job. Felixwas looking at me curiously, for jaded,

(02:41:31):
scarlet, disheveled. I was anodd figure for a London afternoon.
Things seem to have been marching fastwith you, he said, they have,
But I think the march is over. I want to ask several favors.
First, here is a document whichsets out certain facts. I shall
ring up mc gillivray at Scotland Yardand ask him to come here at nine
thirty this evening. When he comes, I want you to give him this

(02:41:54):
and ask him to read it atonce. He will know how to act
on it. Felix nodded. Andthe next give me a telegraph form.
I want a wire sent at onceby some one who can be trusted.
He handed me a form, andI wrote out a telegram to Lumley at
the Albany, saying that I proposedto call upon him that evening at h

(02:42:16):
sharp in asking him to receive me. Next, said Felix. Next and
last, I want a room witha door which will lock, a hot
bath, and something to eat.About seven, I might be permitted to
taste Monsieur Alphonse's new casserole dish.I rang up mc gillivray, reminded him
of his promise, and told himwhat awaited him at nine thirty. Then

(02:42:39):
I had a wash, and afterwards, at my leisure, gave Felix a
sketch of the day's doings. Ihave never felt more completely at my ease.
For whatever happened. I was certainthat I had spoiled Lumley's game.
He would know by now that Ihad reached the embassy, and that any
further attempts on my life and libertywere futile. My telegram would show him

(02:43:00):
that I was prepared to offer terms, and I would certainly be permitted to
reach the Albany unmolested to the meetingwith my adversary. I looked forward without
qualms, but with the most livelyinterest. I had my own theories about
that distinguished criminal, and I hopedto bring them to the proof. Just
before seven I had a reply tomy wire. Mister Lumley said he would

(02:43:22):
be delighted to see me. Thetelegram was directed to me at the embassy,
though I had put no address onthe one I sent. Lumley,
of course, knew all my movements. I could picture him sitting in his
chair like some chief of staff,receiving every few minutes the reports of his
agents. All the same Napoleon hadfought his waterloo. End of chapter seven.

(02:43:46):
Recording by Expatriate in Bangor, Maine, Chapter eight of The Powerhouse by
John Buckie. This Librivot's recording isin the public domain. Recording by Expatriate
in Bangor, Maine, Chapter eight, The Powerhouse. I left Belgrave Square

(02:44:11):
about a quarter to eight and retracedmy steps along the route, which for
me that afternoon had been so fullof tremors. I was still being watched.
A little observation told me that butI would not be interfered with,
provided my way lay in a certaindirection. So completely without nervousness was I
that at the top of Constitution Hill. I struck into the green park and

(02:44:35):
kept to the grass till I emergedinto Piccadilly, opposite Devonshire House. A
light wind had risen and the eveninghad grown pleasantly cool. I met several
men I knew going out to dinneron foot, and stopped to exchange greetings
from my clothes. They thought Ihad just returned from a day in the
country. I had reached the Albanyas the clock was striking. Eight.

(02:44:58):
Lumley's rooms were on the first floor, and I was evidently expected for The
porter himself conducted me to them,and waited by me till the door was
opened by a man servant. Youknow those Rococo Late Georgian Albany rooms,
large square, clumsily corniced. Lumley'swas lined with books, which I saw
at a glance were of a differenttype from those in his working library at

(02:45:22):
his country house. This was thecollection of a bibliophile, and in the
light of the summer evening, therows of tall volumes in vellum and Morocco
lined the walls like some rich tapestry. The valet retired and shut the door,
and presently from a little inner chambercame his master. He was dressed

(02:45:43):
for dinner and wore more than everthe air of the eminent diplomat. Again
I had the old feeling of incredulity. It was the lumly I had met
two nights before at dinner, thefriend of viceroys and cabinet ministers. It
was hard to connect him with AntiochStreet or the red haired footman with a
pistol, or with Tuke. Yes, I decided, Tuke fitted into the

(02:46:05):
frame. Both were brains cut loosefrom the decencies that make life possible.
Good evening, mister lythen, hesaid, pleasantly, as you have fixed
the hour of eight, may Ioffer you dinner? Thank you, I
replied, but I have already dined. I have chosen an awkward time,
but my business need not take long, So he said, I am always

(02:46:26):
glad to see you at any hour, and I prefer to see the Master
rather than the subordinates who have beeninfesting my life during the past week.
We both laughed. I am afraidyou have had some annoyance, mister Lython,
he said, but remember I gaveyou fair warning, true, and
I have come to do the samekindness to you. That part of the

(02:46:48):
game, at any rate is overover, he queried, raising his eyebrows.
Yes, over, I said,and took out my watch. Let
us be quite frank with each other, mister lump. There is really very
little time to waste. As youhave doubtless read the paper which you stole
from my friend this morning, youknow more or less the extent of my
information. Let us have frankness byall means. Yes, I have read

(02:47:13):
your paper, A very creditable pieceof work. If I may say so,
you will rise in your profession,mister lythan. But surely you must
realize that it carries you a verylittle way in a sense. You are
right. I am not in aposition to reveal the full extent of your
misdeeds, of the powerhouse and itsdoings. I can only guess. But
pitt Heron is on his way home, and he will be carefully safe guarded

(02:47:37):
on that journey. Your creature Sorroenovhas confessed. We shall know more very
soon. In meantime, I haveclear evidence which implicates you in a conspiracy
to murder. He did not answer, but I wished I could see behind
his tinted spectacles to the look inhis eyes. I think he had not
been quite prepared for the line Itook. I need not tell you,

(02:48:01):
as a lawyer, mister lythan hesaid at last, that what seems good
evidence on paper is often feeble enoughin court. You cannot suppose that I
will tamely plead guilty to your charges. On the contrary, I will fight
them with all the force that brainsand money can give. You are an
ingenious young man, but you arenot the brightest jewel of the English bar.

(02:48:24):
That also is true. I donot deny that some of my evidence
may be weakened at the trial.It is even conceivable that you may be
acquitted on some technical doubt. Butyou have forgotten one thing. From the
day you leave the court, youwill be a suspected man. The police
of all Europe will be on yourtrail. You have been highly successful in
the past, and why because youhave been above suspicion, an honorable and

(02:48:48):
distinguished gentleman, belonging to the bestclubs, counting as your acquaintances the flower
of our society. Now you willbe a suspect, a man with a
past, a center of strange story. I put it to you, how
far are you likely to succeed underthese conditions, he laughed. You have
a talent for character drawing, myfriend, What makes you think that I

(02:49:09):
can work only if I live inthe limelight of popularity. The talent you
mentioned, I said, as Iread your character, and I think I
am right. You are an artistin crime. You are not the common
cutthroat who acts out of passion orgreed. Now I think you are something
subtler than that. You love power, hidden power. You flatter your vanity

(02:49:31):
by despising mankind and making them yourtools. You scorn the smattering of inaccuracies
which passes for human knowledge, andI will not venture to say you are
wrong. Therefore you use your brainsto frustrate it. Unhappily, the life
of millions is built on that smattering. So you are a foe to society.

(02:49:52):
But there would be no flavor incontrolling subterranean things if you were yourself
a mole working in the dark.To get a full flavor the irony of
it all, you must live inthe light. I can imagine you laughing
in your soul as you move aboutour world, praising it with your lips,
patting it with your hands, andkicking its props away with your feet.

(02:50:13):
I can see the charm of it, but it is over. Now
over, he asked over, Irepeated. The end has come, the
utter, final and absolute end.He made a sudden, odd, nervous
movement, pushing his glasses close backupon his eyes. What about yourself,
he said, hoarsely. Do youthink you can play against me without suffering

(02:50:35):
desperate penalties? He was holding acord in his hand with a knob on
the end of it. He nowtouched a button in the knob, and
there came the faint sound of abell. The door was behind me,
and he was looking beyond me towardsit. I was entirely at his mercy,
but I never budged an inch.I do not know how I managed
to keep calm, but I didit, and without much effort. I

(02:50:58):
went on speaking, conscious that thedoor had opened and that some one was
at my back. It is reallyquite useless trying to frighten me. I
am safe because I am dealing withan intelligent man and not with the ordinary
half witted criminal. You do notwant my life in silly revenge. If
you call in your men and strangleme between you what earthly good would it

(02:51:20):
do you? He was looking beyondme, and the passion, a sudden,
white hot passion, like an epilepsy, was dying out of his face.
A mistake, James, he said, you can go the door closed
softly at my back. Yes,a mistake. I have a considerable admiration
for you, mister Lumley, andshould be sorry to be disappointed. He

(02:51:43):
laughed, quite like an ordinary mortal. I am glad this affair is to
be conducted on a basis of mutualrespect. Now that the melodramatic overture is
finished, let us get to thebusiness by all means, I said,
I promised to deal with you frankly. Will let me put my last cards
on the table at half past nine? Precisely the duplicate of that statement of

(02:52:05):
mind which you annexed this morning willbe hinded to Scotland yard. I may
add that the authorities there know meand are proceeding under my advice. When
they read that statement, they willact on it. You have therefore about
one and a half or say onein three quarter hours to make up your
mind. You can still secure yourfreedom, but it must be elsewhere than

(02:52:26):
in England. He had risen tohis feet and was pacing up and down
the room. Will you oblige meby telling me one thing? He said.
If you believe me to be,as you say, a dangerous criminal,
how do you reconcile it with yourconscience to give me a chance of
escape? It is your duty tobring me to justice. I will tell

(02:52:46):
you why I said, I toohave a weak joint in my armor.
Yours is that you only succeed underthe disguise of high respectability. That disguise,
in any case, will be strippedfrom you. Mine is pit Heron.
I do not know how far hehas entangled himself with you, but
I know something of his weakness,and I don't want his career ruined and

(02:53:07):
his wife's heart broken. He haslearned his lesson and will never mention you
and your schemes to a mortal soul. Indeed, if I can help it,
he will never know that any oneshares his secret. The price of
the chance of escape I offer youis that pitt Heron's past be buried forever.
He did not answer. He hadhis arms folded, walking up and

(02:53:28):
down the room, and suddenly seemedto have aged enormously I had the impression
that I was dealing with a veryold man, mister lythan he said at
last. You are bold, Youhave a frankness which almost amounts to genius.
You are wasted in your stupid profession, but your speculative powers are not
equal to your other endowments, soyou will probably remain in it, deterred

(02:53:52):
by an illogical scruple from following yourtrue bent, your true metier, believe
me, is what shallow people callcrime. Speaking without prejudice, as the
idiot's solicitors say, it would appearthat we have both weak spots in our
cases. Mine, you say isthat I can only work by using the
conventions of what we agreed to callthe machine. There may be truth in

(02:54:15):
that. Yours is that you havea friend who lacks your ironclad discretion.
You offer a plan which saves bothour weaknesses. By the way, what
is it, I looked at mywatch again. You have ample time to
catch the night Express to Paris,and if not, then I am afraid
there may be trouble with the policebetween ten and eleven o'clock, which,

(02:54:37):
for all our sakes would be apity. Do you know you interest me
uncommonly, For you confirm the accuracyof my judgment. I have always had
a notion that some day I shouldrun across to my sorrow. Just such
a man as you, a manof very great intellectual power, I can
deal with. For that kind ofbrain is usually combined with a sort of

(02:54:58):
high strung imagination on which I canwork the same with your over imaginative men.
Yes, pitt Heron was of thattype. Ordinary brains do not trouble
me, for I puzzle them.Now, you are a man of good
average intelligence. Pray forgive the lukewarmnessof the phrase. It is really a
high compliment, for I am anaustere critic. If you were that and

(02:55:20):
no more, you would not havesucceeded. But you possess also a quite
irrelevant gift of imagination, not enoughto upset your balance, but enough to
do what your mere lawyer's talent couldnever have done. You have achieved a
feat which is given to few.You have partially understood me. Believe me,
I rate you high. You arethe kind of four square being bedded

(02:55:43):
in the concrete of our civilization onwhom I have always felt I might some
day come to grief. No,no, I am not trying to wheedle
you. If I thought I coulddo that, I should be sorry,
for my desernment would have been atfault. I warn you. I said
that you are wasting precious time.He laughed, quite cheerfully. I believe
you are really anxious about my interests, he said. That is a triumph.

(02:56:07):
Indeed, do you know, misterlythen it is a mere whimsy of
faith that you are not my disciple. If we had met earlier, and
under other circumstances, I should havecaptured you. It is because you have
in you a capacity for discipleship thatyou have succeeded in your opposition. I
abominate you in all your works,I said, But I admire your courage.

(02:56:28):
He shook his head gently. Itis the wrong word. I am
not courageous. To be brave meansthat you have conquered fear. But I
have never had any fear to conquer. Believe me, mister lythan I am
quite impervious to threats. You cometo me to night and hold a pistol
to my head. You offer metwo alternatives, both of which mean failure.

(02:56:50):
But how do you know that Iregard them as failure. I have
had what they call a good runfor my money. No man since Napoleon
has tasted such power. I maybe willing to end it. Age creeps
on, and power may grow burdensome. I have always sat loose from common
ambitions and common affections. For allyou know, I may regard you as

(02:57:11):
a benefactor. All this talk looksfutile when it is written down, But
it was skillful enough, for itwas taking every atom of exhilaration out of
my victory. It was not idlebrag. Every syllable rang true, as
I knew in my bones. Ifelt myself in the presence of something enormously
big, as if a small barbarianwas desecrating the colossal zeus of Phidius with

(02:57:35):
a coal hammer. But I alsofelt it inhuman, and I hated it,
and I clung to that hatred.You fear nothing, and you believe
nothing, I said, Man,you should never have been allowed to live.
He raised a deprecating hand. Iam a skeptic about most things,
he said, But believe me.I have my own worship. I venerate

(02:57:56):
the intellect of men. I believeeven its undreamed of possibilities when it grows
free like an oak in the forest, it is not dwarfed in a flower
pot. From that allegiance, Ihave never wavered. That is the god
I have never forsworn. I tookout my watch. Permit me again to
remind you that time presses true,he said, smiling. The Continental Express

(02:58:20):
will not wait upon my confession.Your plan is certainly conceivable. There may
be other and easier ways. Iam not certain. I must think perhaps
it would be wiser if you leftme now, mister lythan if I take
your advice. There will be variousthings to do. In any case,
there will be much to do.He led me to the door, as

(02:58:41):
if he were an ordinary host,speeding an ordinary guest. I remember that
on my way he pointed out aset of aldines and called my attention to
their beauty. He shook hands quitecordially, and remarked on the fineness of
the weather. That was the lastI saw of this amazing man. It
was with profound relief that I foundmyself in Piccadilly, in the wholesome company

(02:59:05):
of my kind. I had carriedmyself boldly enough in the last hour,
but I would not have gone throughit again for a king's ransom. Do
you know what it is to dealwith a pure intelligence, a brain stripped
of every shred of humanity. Itis like being in the company of a
snake. I drove to the cluband telephoned to mc gillivray, asking him

(02:59:26):
to take no notice of my statementtill he heard from me in the morning.
Then I went to the hospital tosee Chapman. That leader of the
people was in a furious temper,and he was scarcely to be appeased by
my narrative of the day's doings.Your labor member is the greatest of old
sticklers for legality. In the outragehe had suffered that morning had grievously weakened

(02:59:48):
his trust in public security. TheAntioch Street business had seemed to him eminently
right. If you once got mixedup in melodrama, you had to expect
such things. But for a memberof Parliament to be robbed in broad daylight
next door to the House of Commonsupset the foundations of his faith. There
was little the matter with his body, and the doctor promised that he would

(03:00:09):
be allowed up next day, buthis soul was a mass of bruises.
It took me a lot of persuasionto get him to keep quiet. He
wanted a public exposure of Lumley,a big trial, a general ferreting out
of secret agents, the whole windingup with a speech in Parliament by himself
on this last outrage of capitalism.Gloomily, he listened to my injunctions to

(03:00:33):
silence, but he saw the reasonof it and promised to hold his tongue
out of loyalty to Tommy. Iknew that pitt Heron's secret was safe with
him. As I crossed Westminster Bridgeon my way home. The night expressed
to the Continent rumbled over the river. I wondered if Lumley was on board,
or if he had taken one ofthe other ways of which he had

(03:00:54):
spoken. End of Chapter eight.Recording by a patriot in Bangor, Maine.
Chapter nine of The Powerhouse by JohnBuchan. This LibriVox recording is in
the public domain. Recording by expatriotin Bangor, Maine, Chapter nine,

(03:01:20):
Return of the Wild Geese. Ido not think I was surprised at the
news I read in the Times nextmorning. Mister Andrew Lumley had died suddenly
in the night of heart failure,and the newspapers woke up to the fact
that we had been entertaining a greatman unawares. There was an obituary in
Leader type of nearly two columns.He had been older than I thought,

(03:01:43):
close on seventy, and the timespoke of him as a man who might
have done anything he pleased in publiclife, but had chosen to give to
a small coterie of friends what wasdue to the country. I read of
his wit and learning, his amazingconnoisseurship, his gifts, his personal charm.
According to the writer, he wasthe finest type of cultivated amateur,

(03:02:05):
a Beckford with more than a Beckford'swealth, and none of his folly.
Large private charities were hinted at,and a hope was expressed that some part,
at least of his collections might cometo the nation. The halfpenny papers
said the same thing in their ownway. One declared he reminded it of
Atticus, another of Mycenus, anotherof Lord Houghton. There must have been

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a great run on biographical dictionaries inthe various offices. Chapman's own particular.
Rags said that although this kind ofphilanthropist was a dilettante in a back number.
Yet mister Lumley was a good specimenof the class and had been a
true friend to the poor. Ithought Chapman would have a fit when he
read this. After that he tookin the morning post. It was no

(03:02:52):
business of mine to explode the myth. Indeed, I couldn't even if I
had wanted to, for no onewould have believed me unless I perduce proofs,
and these proofs were not to bemade public. Besides, I had
an honest compunction he had had,as he expressed, it, a good
run for his money, and Iwanted the run to be properly rounded off.

(03:03:13):
Three days later I went to thefuneral. It was a wonderful occasion.
Two eminent statesmen were among the polebearers, Royalty was represented, and
there were wreaths from learned societies andscores of notable people. It was a
queer business to listen to that statelyservice, which was never read over stranger
dust. I was thinking all thetime of the vast subterranean machine which he

(03:03:37):
had controlled, and which now wasso much old iron. I could dimly
imagine what his death meant to thehosts who had worked blindly at his direction.
He was a Napoleon who left nomarshals behind him. From the powerhouse
came no wreaths or newspaper tributes.But I knew that I had lost its
power de mortuis et cetera. Mytask was done, and it only remained

(03:04:01):
to get pitt Heron home. Ofthe three people in London besides myself who
knew the story, Mcguilivray, Chapmanand Felix, the two last might be
trusted to be silent, and ScotlandYard is not in the habit of publishing
its information. Tommy, of course, must some time or other be told.
It was his right, but Iknew that Tommy would never breathe a

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word of it. I wanted Charlesto believe that his secret died with Lumley,
for otherwise I don't think he wouldhave ever come back to England.
The thing took some arranging, forwe could not tell him directly about Lumley's
death without giving away the fact thatwe knew of the connection between the two.
We had to approach it by aroundabout road. I got Felix to

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arrange to have the news telegraphed toand inserted by special order in a Russian
paper which Charles could not avoid seeing. The device was successful. Calling at
Portman Square a few days later,I learned from Ethel pitt Heron's glowing thing
that her troubles were over. Thatsame evening, a cable to me from
Tommy announced the return of the Wanderers. It was the year of the Chilean

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Arbitration, in which I held ajunior brief for the British government, and
that in the late sitting of Parliamentkept me in London after the end of
the term. I had had abad reaction from the excitements of the summer,
and in these days I was feelingpretty well hipped and overdone. On
a hot August afternoon, I metTommy again. The sun was shining through

(03:05:31):
my temple chambers, much as Ihad done when he started. So far
as I remember, the west HamBrief, which had aroused his contempt,
was still adorning my table. Iwas very hot and cross and fagged,
for I had been engaged in thebeastly job of comparing half a dozen maps
of a despicable little bit of SouthAmerican frontier. Suddenly the door opened and

(03:05:54):
Tommy lean and sunburnt, walked instill at the old grind. He cried,
after we had shaken hands. Fellowslike you, give me a notion
of the meaning of eternity, thesame uneventful sedentary life, I replied.
Nothing happens except that my scale offees grows. I suppose nothing will happen
till the conductor comes to take thetickets. I shall soon grow fat.

(03:06:18):
I notice it already, my lad. You want a bit of waking up,
or you'll get a liver. Alittle sensation would do you a lot
of good. And you, Iasked, I congratulate you on your success.
I hear you have retrieved pitt Heronfor his morning family. Tommy's laughing
eyes grew solemn. I have hadthe time of my life, he said.
It was like a chapter out ofthe Arabian Nights with a dash of

(03:06:41):
Fenimore Cooper. I feel as ifI had lived years since I left England
in May. While you have beensitting among your musty papers, we have
been riding like moss troopers and seeingmen die, come and dine to night
and hear about our adventures. Ican't tell you the full story, for
I don't know it, but thereis enough to curl your hair. Then
I achieved my first and last scoreat the expense of Tommy de Lorraine.

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No, I said, you willdine with me instead, and I will
tell you the full story. Allthe papers on the subject are over there
in my safe End of Chapter ninerecording by expatriate in Bangor, Maine.
End of the Powerhouse by John Buchan,